"Sexual favors," Control warned sternly, "are not going to get you back into my good graces."

"Of course not," Lily answered soothingly. "But you have to admit it's a fine place to start."

"I admit no …" He stopped, gasped, unwilling to cry out, at least not yet. When he could speak again, he growled, "I admit no such thing."

"You will," she predicted serenely.

She was right, of course, and Control knew it full well. He made himself relax, enjoy. Lily clearly wanted to take lead on this operation, and he was more than willing to let her. They'd played this game before. He was sure he could maintain a certain level of self-control.

She took him to the very brink, and then slowed to a crawl, let him recover. Began again. Control groaned in protest and pleasure, made a half-hearted attempt to take over, but she pushed his hands away and he laid back, let her have her way. There were worse things in the world than the zealous attentions of a lover.

She stopped a second time. He would have admitted anything, anything, just to have her go on. He reached for her. She pushed his hands away again, definitively.

The third time she stopped, he thought he might die. He was beginning to have serious doubts about his whole self-control premise. She knew him too well, knew his body too well, and was clearly prepared to use every trick she knew. "Lily," he moaned, "please."

"Uh-uh," she answered, still maddeningly calm. "Not until I get what I want."

Control felt one eyebrow climb. This was a new twist on the game; she'd never asked for anything before. "Wh-what do you want?" Name the country; I'll start planning the coup just as soon as I can think straight.

Lily slid her body the length of his, until she lay entirely on top of him, her face inches above his. "I want you to drop the leash."

At least she'd eased up enough to let him speak. He tried to say 'I don't know what you're talking about,' but got only as far as "I don't kn…" before she started sliding away again. He grabbed her frantically, dragged her back. "Please, please."

She smiled, playful and dark. "I want you to let go. Let yourself go."

Control knew damn well what she wanted. He still hesitated. Since she'd been back he'd been so careful with her. Careful not to hurt her, not to frighten her. Obviously she was better, but there was still a need for caution – wasn't there? Lily read his hesitation in his body. She rolled against him, and he saw her plan clearly: she would have her way, or she would drive him insane. But. "Lily … "

"I'm not fragile," she explained patiently. "I won't break. And I am willing to work at convincing you for as long as it takes."

He had endured torture, in his career, but nothing as uniquely, sweetly painful as this. His logic, what little was left of it, ran to a childish but appropriate phrase: If she can dish it out …

He took as deep breath, exhaled slowly. Gave in. "All right, love."

She rewarded his capitulation with a truly brilliant smile. "I am yours," she said solemnly, "and I want to be taken as yours."

"All right," Control said again. He shifted his grip and rolled both of them. She let him cover her body with his, let him pin her. He swept her elegant arms over her head, gathered both her slender wrists in the long fingers of one hand. There was surrender, and then there was surrender. "You are mine," he said, his voice dropping to a throaty purr, "and I will take what is mine…" She would have what she asked for – eventually. His voice dropped from purr to warning growl. "… at my leisure."

A long time later – an hour, a day? – a distant, insistent buzz woke them.

They both twitched to awareness. There had been no rolling over and going to sleep; neither of them had the energy to roll over. Instead there had been a contented lapse of consciousness in an untidy pile of bodies. Lily struggled to the edge of the bed, still half-pinned under Control's weight, and snatched the phone from the bedside table. "'lo?"

A dial tone sounded loudly in her ear. The buzzing continued.

"That's my pager," Control realized. He rolled off the bed and staggered to get it.

"Or mine," Lily muttered after him. "I hate Jason."

"We all do, love." In the living room, he located his briefcase by sound, set it on the coffee table and popped it open. The pager continued to buzz while he retrieved it. He snapped it off, glanced at the number. It was the autodial from the office; it went off any time someone left him a voicemail marked 'urgent'. He considered the hotel phone for a moment, then decided to risk it, rather than getting dressed and tramping out to a pay phone.

The message was brief, and not unexpected. He replaced the pager, got a cigar and his lighter, and returned to the bedroom.

Lily had turned a on a lamp and put on a long gown, deep green, satin, that clung to every move she made. The emerald glittered warmly between her breasts. She was straightening the sheets, which badly needed it. He went to the side of the bed to help; she couldn't reach even half way across the king-sized bed.

"Do you have to go?" she asked.

"No."

"Good." She finished with the sheets, climbed back in on her side, sat up against the headboard. "Come."

He gestured with the cigar. "Do you mind?"

"Will you share?"

He lit the cigar, climbed back into the bed beside her. Offered her a hit, which she took. She didn't inhale deeply, only enough to blow smoke rings with. It was, Control thought, completely insane that this woman could make him want her this badly, this soon, just by taking one puff of a cigar.

"You know what Freud says," he observed, reclaiming the cigar, making much rounder smoke rings. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"The key word there being 'sometimes'."

Control grinned. "I hope you're satisfied."

"Deeply and profoundly. And you?"

"Yes. Oh, yes. You could have just asked."

"I did just ask."

He took another draw and held the smoke for a moment, contemplatively. "That was the DDI on the phone," he said when he finally exhaled. "They won't sanction a retrieval for Freda."

"You didn't really think they would."

"No." Control sighed. "Any information he has is ten years out of date. We offered to get him out when he was first arrested. He wouldn't leave his wife."

"And now she's dead and he wants to come over. Sad."

"Yes, it is." Another puff, a series of perfect rings. "Have you talked to McCall yet? About apartments?"

"I'm having lunch with him tomorrow."

"Good." A pause. "You might let him know about Freda. He'll be interested to know the old man's all right."

"He will?"

"McCall recruited him."

"Ahh."

Lily didn't quite see where he was going, Control knew, but she knew he was going somewhere. "And if you see Kostmayer," he continued, "tell him to be sure he turns in those plans at the office."

"The plans for the prison?"

Control nodded. She had it. "He has a bad habit of keeping things out for weeks and weeks after the mission's been scrubbed. Drives the file clerks crazy."

"I can see where it would." She snuggled against his arm, demurred another hit from the cigar. Dropped the pretense. "You think Robert will go?"

"I don't know," Control answered. "Some weeks he's very attached to his retirement. And other weeks he's terribly noble. You'll just have to see."

"I'll just have to see?"

"He likes you better."

"I doubt that." She thought about it for a moment. "I don't begin to know how to angle him in on this."

"Don't even try," Control advised. "Just tell him the truth."

Lily shook her head. "He's going to know I've come straight from your bed, figuratively if not literally. He won't believe me."

"I know. That's the beauty of it. Just tell him the truth, and let him sort it out. Either he'll go or he won't. If he won't, then the old man stays where he is."

She moved around until she was facing him. "If Robert goes, I want to run his line."

Control took another slow drag. "You're killing me. You know that, don't you?"

"A little at a time," she agreed.

"Do you know the word 'recidivism'? The compulsion by criminals to return to the prison they've just been released from?"

"You're a rat."

"Widely acknowledged."

"I won't go back to the prison," Lily promised. "I won't even stick my head up. I'll just run his supply line. I won't get caught."

"You said that last time."

She tried a different tack. "I could learn a lot from that man. You've always said so."

"Oh, yes," Control agreed. "You'll go into the field with Robert McCall, and you'll learn a vastly inflamed sense of morality, and you'll come home to be a never-ending pain in my neck, just like he is."

"I am already a never-ending pain in your neck," Lily pointed out, "so what difference does it make?"

He settled back more firmly against the headboard, took a very deliberate draw on the cigar, and just looked at her. She was kneeling on the bed now, all bright and eager, like she was begging for a trip to summer camp. For an instant, just an instant, she looked like she was twelve years old. Then she moved, and the illusion passed. Control sighed. "See if you can get Robert to go. Then we'll talk about it."

She actually bounced on her knees. "Does that mean yes?"

"You're killing me," he answered ruefully. "I don't think your old dad's heart can take much more of this."

Lily's eyes changed. It was just the eyes, and if he hadn't been looking right at her he would have missed it. "Don't do that," she said, very quietly.

"I was kidding, Lily."

"I know. But don't. Please?"

Control put the cigar in the ashtray. "Lily, my love, I am more than twice your age. And whether we like it or not, to the outside world … "

"The outside world doesn't know about us," she interrupted. "And I don't care about that, anyhow. Just, between us … my father was an ignorant drunk who died when I was a child. There is nothing in you that reminds me of him, and if there were I wouldn't be with you. My feelings toward you are not even remotely filial, as I believe I just demonstrated. And I never want to talk about him again."

Quite a speech, Control thought, and clearly rehearsed. Interesting. He couldn't help wondering what was behind it, what she was so carefully denying. It was, after all, his nature to pry. Interesting, too, that McCall suggested as much about her past. But he wouldn't pursue it tonight. "All right, love," he agreed easily. "We will leave all talk of fathers to the necessity of code."

"Thank you."

"Go fetch my briefcase, will you? I'll have to add this to my great long list of things I can't talk to Lily about."

Her eyes crinkled towards a frown, until she saw the twinkle in his. "You are such a rat."

Control laughed. "We've covered that."

She sighed with infinite exasperation. "Fine. Come shower with me. I'll let you see my scars."

"If we're going to take things off the list, I'd much rather … "

Lily clambered over his legs. "No, love, this is not a negotiation. I'm not asking you. Come shower with me."

Chuckling wryly, Control followed her. "As you wish."

Becky Baker sat straight up in bed, screaming, "No!"

Scott flung himself bolt upright next to her, immediately, horribly awake. "Becky? What's wrong?" He looked quickly around the bedroom, but saw nothing. It was still mostly dark. "Becky?" Scott repeated, more quietly.

She sat perfectly still, silent, trembling.

"Becky?" he asked a third time. He slid his arms around her carefully, trying not to startle her. "It was just a dream, honey."

Slowly, by inches, Becky relaxed in his arms. "Oh."

Scott lay back down, drawing her with him. "Better now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"There were c-c-cabbages."

"What?"

"Cabbages," she repeated. "Red cabbages."

Scott fought down a laugh. "You had a nightmare about cabbage?"

"Not cabbage," she corrected vaguely. "Cabbages. They've been in my head all week, I can't get rid of them, ever since Control came to the restaurant."

He stroked her hair, gently working his fingers through the snarls produced by their earlier lovemaking. "Control came to see you?"

"He was looking for her again."

"Her who?"

Becky hesitated. "I can't tell you."

"What do you mean, you can't tell me?"

"I can't," she protested. "I promised."

"You promised Control?" Scott snarled. "Fine. I'll make him tell me."

"He won't. And it's not anything dangerous," Becky tried to assure him. "It's just a …" she sighed, feeling Scott's determination solidify. "He's in love with her."

"Control's in love with somebody?"

"Uh-huh."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh."

"Who?"

"I don't know. A-a-and I couldn't tell you, anyhow."

The stutter, more than anything, brought him back to the moment; Becky rarely stuttered around him any more. "All right, hon. You want to tell me about the cabbage?"

She shuddered lightly. "I don't know. They were burning. They were so hot, and everyone around them was burning. It was awful."

"It's all right, Becky." Scott tightened his arms around her. "It was just a dream. You're all right now."

"I wish I knew what it meant."

"You think the burning part might have to do with the kitchen fire?"

Becky sighed. It had been weeks since she set Scott's kitchen on fire, and she couldn't stop thinking about that, either. She'd never seen a kitchen fire before. It had gotten so big, so fast; she hadn't known a fire could spread that fast. Of course, having Scott's mother right there when it happened just made it worse. She could feel the waves of hostility and distain coming off that woman …

"We've got to tell your mother this week," she reminded Scott.

The young man groaned. "I'll take care of it," he promised. "It'll be okay."

"She hates me," Becky muttered miserably.

"She'll get over it. Besides, I love you enough for both of us."

They nestled in closer and gradually, uneasily, went back to sleep.

While Control shaved, Lily brought him coffee. Then she perched on the wide marble vanity next to the sink and settled in to watch him.

Control eyed her curiously, fondly. She was wrapped in one of the hotel's thick robes, nearly lost in it. "You all right?"

"I'm fine. When do I need to be out of here?"

"Check-out's at noon." To her nod, he added, "Monday."

Lily laughed, startled. "It's only Wednesday."

"It's Thursday."

She took a beat to adjust her inner calendar. "You didn't have to do this." She gestured around the bathroom, which was roughly twice as large as her temp housing living room. "Even for you, this is over the top."

"If I had my way," Control informed her, navigating the razor over the tricky slope of his chin, "I'd keep you in this much luxury every minute of your life."

"If I had my way, you'd be late for work."

"You had your way, and I am late for work."

Lily considered. It was still dark outside. "I bet the sun comes up whether you're in your office or not."

"Oh, it does," Control answered. "But there's no one there to supervise it."

"Ahh."

She watched as he rinsed his face and dried it. He drained the sink, rinsed it carefully, dried it with the same hand towel. He carefully dried the razor and dropped it back in his leather kit bag. Then he dried the faucet and surrounding counter. Finally he folded the used towel and placed it precisely at the front edge of the vanity.

Control noted her attention again. "What?"

"I'm trying to decide if that's endearing or obnoxious," she reported.

He shrugged. "Just habit." He moved closer, slid one hand to her neck beneath her hair, and kissed her deeply. She tasted like coffee and toothpaste. He straightened to look at her. Blond, she looked more shamefully young than she actually was. Her lips were gently bruised from savage kissing; there would be small marks all over her from the night before - and all over him, as well. He could feel half a dozen places where small muscles were pulled or strained. They'd barely slept; he could feel the edges of sleepiness pulling at him already.

It was an altogether glorious feeling.

He put his other hand on her neck and slid them both down her shoulders, pushing the robe away. It fell to her elbows, baring her to the waist, revealing her perfect breasts with their scandalous lack of tan lines, framing the silver chain and the emerald around her neck. His hands slid lower still, gently cupping each breast, and he leaned to kiss her again as she arched up toward him. His mouth trailed off hers, down the delicious curve of her neck, to the rounded corner where it met her shoulder. She gasped, her whole body coming up ever further in response to his hands, and he bit her shoulder hard enough to mark it.

"You are going to be so late for work," she murmured.

"No, I'm not," he answered smugly against her neck. He straightened, took his hands away. "Will you be here tonight?"

"You are such a rat."

"Yes. But will you be here?"

She sighed, exasperated. "I suppose so."

"Good." Control walked into the bedroom and began to dress.

Lily trailed after him, the robe still around her waist. "Do you want me in the office today?"

"No. If you manage to seduce Robert, that'll be enough." He paused buttoning his shirt and looked at her, leaning against the doorway, half-naked and perfectly gorgeous. "I mean that figuratively, of course."

She shrugged. "Whatever it takes," she teased.

"You'd kill him," Control warned. "You damn near killed me."

"Hmmm." She shrugged back into the robe and sat on the bed. "Anything specific you want in this apartment I'm finding?"

"Secondary access, limited outside surveillance. Common sense things." He considered. "Maybe something with no furniture."

Lily frowned. "Okay, I'll bite. What've you got in mind that requires that much floor space?"

"Something completely decadent," Control promised. "It's called shopping for your own furniture. It can be highly pleasurable. In fact, I have known women who were completely obsessed with it."

"Hmm."

"It would not hurt you to own things that won't fit in the trunk."

"Why do you hate my trunk?"

Control scowled, tucking his shirt in. "I hate what it represents."

"What do you think it represents?"

He glanced at her. "One, you think no one will be inconvenienced if you die, which is not true. It's going to a major inconvenience to me, and getting rid of your stuff will be the least of it. Understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"Two, you think you can throw the trunk in the back of a car and be gone. Which is also not true, because I would track you to the ends of the earth."

"Using the homing device hidden in the emerald," Lily suggested.

Control paused. "Damn, I wish I'd thought of that." He sat down to put his socks and shoes on. "Do me a favor. Get rid of the trunk."

"No." He gave her his best commanding look; it rolled off her like water off a duck's back. "I'm not giving up the trunk," Lily said. "I've had it since I was a kid. They gave it to me in the home, and I've always kept my best stuff in it. As long as I had it, all the juvenile delinquents I lived with couldn't take what was important to me. It's my security blanket, and I'm not prepared to part with it."

"You don't live with juvenile delinquents any more."

"Have you met the people I work with?" Lily challenged. On consideration, she added, "Of course, none of them ever rifled through it."

"You were dead," Control explained.

"And you were looking for evidence that exposed our affair, I know."

"No," he answered, surprised. "I didn't think there was any evidence. Is there?"

"No. Then what were you looking for?"

He shrugged. "Comfort, I suppose. Some link to you, to your past. Something to hold on to. Anything." Again, the subtle change in her eyes, her manner; it was very small, but Control was certain he saw it.

"There's nothing in my past that you need to know," Lily answered, lightly. "No one there who cares if I'm alive. There's only you." She straightened. "I will not give up the trunk, but if it's important to you, I will try to acquire things that don't fit into it."

Control recognized this for the huge concession it was – and also that she'd given in to change the subject from her past. "Thank you."

"But I don't think I'm up for buying a whole apartment full of furniture at once."

"Money is no object, you know."

"I'm not taking your money."

Control set to tying his tie. "We're way past the 'she's in it for my money' phase of this relationship, Lily."

"I'm not taking your money," she repeated. "Besides, it would be counterproductive. Like therapy, if you don't pay you don't get better. If I'm buying furniture to prove I love you, I've got to buy it with my own money."

"You're not buying furniture to prove that you love me," Control protested. "That's not what this is about." She looked skeptical. "I just want you to have a home."

"A what?"

"A home. I know we're not up for beachfront property or picket fences, I know. I just want …" He paused, choosing his words. "I want to know that when I'm not with you, you're somewhere nice, with your own things around you. Somewhere that's an actual retreat for you and not just some ugly crowded pre-fab box."

Lily gazed at him, bemused. "If you'd started there, you could have been halfway to the office by now." She climbed off the bed, helped him with his jacket. "A home, huh? Well, that's a new one."

"You've never had your own home?"

She shook her head. "All pre-fab boxes." She took a deep breath. "I'll try, I promise. Just don't expect miracles. Habits are hard to break, even the ones that no longer apply."

Control nodded. "Thank you." He kissed her warmly, then took her hand and led her to the door. He took a small detour to the bathroom and let her watch as he shook out the carefully folded used towel and threw it on the floor.