A/N: Thanks for reviewing! In this chapter, the italics (in the first bit) are Erik's thoughts, just to let you all know.

Erik looked around the small coffee shop, his arm fixed around a shivering Christine. "Lucas, is there anyone watching?" He whispered, although it probably appeared as if he was speaking to himself.

"Nope, you're clear."

Nodding, Erik sat the girl down at a table in the corner. He was studying her, and the concern was etched clearly on his face as she pressed her fingertips to her temples. "What would you like to drink, Christine?" He asked her, softly.

"Uh… a mocha, please."

Erik was back, minutes later with their drinks. He sat down, handing Christine's to her. Their fingers brushed for a short moment, and he tried his best to push it to the back of his mind. "What's the matter?"

"Erik, I can't do this anymore." She rasped and cursed herself for lacking the courage to carry out her mission, but she didn't have the heart to.

"Yes you can. You know the profile; it's not a difficult mission."

"That's easy for you to say!"

Erik began in an explanatory tone, "Christine, I trained you for this for two years. You can do this."

"No, you taught me to shoot a gun and dodge a bullet. You never taught me how to ignore a lifetime of moral values and beliefs." She watched through narrowed eyes as Erik moved his chair closer, and placed his arm over her shoulder. He pulled her to him, and she did not have the heart to resist him. She rested her head against his chedst, trying desperately to hold in her surfacing tears. "I can't, Erik."

"Shh," he whispered, "yes, you can. You're stronger than you think. I know its difficult now, but it gets easier, I promise you it will."

"I don't understand," she began to sob, and Erik felt himself break at the sight of her tears. They were tears that he blamed himself for, tears that she would never have had to cry if it weren't for being forced into this hellish existence. "Why must we be so ruthless?"

Erik shook his head, "The other side is ruthless, Christine. We have to be stronger, and this is the only way. But, if you look at a different side of it, Section One is an anti-terrorist organization. You're saving innocent lives by helping to take down these criminals."

"It doesn't seem fair."

"It's not. But you do what you have to." He threaded his fingers through her hair, just before she pulled away from him.

"Do what you have to…" she echoed, turning to catch his face with her apathetic, almost annoyed gaze. She felt herself hardening, her subconscious building a barrier to protect her heart. It was all she could do to keep herself from having an emotional breakdown that most likely would not be tolerated. "I can't live like that." She hissed.

"What choice do you have?"

Christine shot him a lazy glare. "Erik, you seem to overestimate how much I value my life. I'm no more important than anyone Section has cancelled or done worse to. If I have to spend the rest of my life like this, than I would gladly end it."

Erik closed his eyes, leaning over to rest his head in his hands.

She would prefer to die than to live in Section. Not that I can blame her, it isn't as if I had never had similar ideas. But- it hurts. God, why does it hurt? What does it matter? It never bothered me the least bit before whether or not my material enjoyed their life. I couldn't have cared less. Why do I care about what Christine thinks? Why can't I think of her the same as everyone else? Why do I want her to be happy…why do I want her to be happy when the happiness of my operatives were never a concern to me before?

It is because she is innocent and the rest were scum, including myself. The rest did not care about anyone else, just as I hadn't. But, Christine cares. It was why she couldn't kill Gilmore, and it is why she is having a difficult time with Jane. She doesn't see these people as targets as I do. She sees flesh and blood and she cares!

I brought her into Section. She's here because I hand in the accident. She would end her life to escape what I have done to her. She would end her life to escape me.

Why does it hurt?

Christine frowned. "Erik?"

When he did not speak, she repeated herself, albeit more loudly. "Erik?"

"Erik! Why are you like this?"

"Keep your voice down, Christine!" He hissed, fighting the urge to send his cup flying off the table. His hand balled up in a tight fist, and he inhaled deeply to calm himself.

Christine was looking at him as if he had grown two heads, clearly unaware of the source of his anger. "What is the matter with you?"

"You don't think that hurts me, Christine? You think I enjoy hearing you say you want to kill yourself?"

Christine felt rage course through her veins, she wanted to stand up- she wanted to scream but she couldn't. "It is at least more than you have given me, Erik Vachon! I'm glad it hurts you- I'm glad it hurts. At least now I know you are human and you can feel something for a change!"

"In that case I am more human than you think." He threw back, getting up from the seat in a fury and storming out the door. Christine looked around the small café nervously, relieved to discover that only a few spared the couple a glance or two. She got up herself and placed her cup, and Erik's forgotten one in the tray before following after him.

"What was that supposed to mean?" She asked him as she approached. She was quiet and cautious, unaware of the manner in which he would respond and she did not wish to anger him further. "Don't just say you can't tell me, I deserve to know."

"Christine," he began in a quiet, almost broken voice. "I do care for you. I have for- for a while. To hear you say that you do not want to live, its still- it's just, I don't know, I find myself unable to bear it. Contrary to what you might think, I do care deeply for you. I hate to see you unhappy, Christine. And I know it's my fault, because I brought you here." He told her, honestly. It was not the whole story, but it was a lot more than Christine had ever received from Erik, and for that she was happy. Hopefully the rest would come in time. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind him, leaning in to rest her cheek against his back. She felt his trembling hands grasp her own and he laced his fingers with hers.

"If it wasn't for you, I would be dead anyways, Erik."

Erik shook his head, and Christine could swear that she heard him stifle a sob. "That's not true. You are a good operative, Christine…"

If you only knew the truth. If you only knew you weren't supposed to die in that accident.

"Not good enough. Operations surely would have cancelled me if it wasn't for you protecting me from him."

That's not true either.

Erik said nothing for a long while, simply standing there, unresponsive as Christine tightened her grip around his waist. "Do you want to know what I think?" She asked, innocently.

Erik swallowed and turned his head to the side in an attempt to see as much or as little as of her as he could. "What's that?"

"If you would want to- not now- but you know I would be willing to listen to you, Erik. I think it would do you good to talk to someone. There's been entirely too much internalizing of emotions lately." She told him, sounding strangely more like Antoinette than herself.

Erik let himself laugh and turned around in Christine's embrace. She looked up at him with large, blue eyes, desperate to see any sign of openness or relief in his own. "You would listen, and not judge?"

Christine nodded, reaching up to place a hand on the cheek that used to be covered by the porcelain mask. She felt her throat tighten as she spoke, "I will listen and not judge, I promise."

Erik nodded, hesitantly placing his hands on both sides of her beautiful face. He looked at her, more deeply than he had ever had, and Christine could swear he was looking through her. "I will tell you, as soon as we are finished this mission and alone."

"Do you promise?"

Erik didn't know what he was doing, but he softly cooed and leaned in, pressing his lips against Christine's in a brief, tender kiss. He did not go further, however; and he broke it off almost as soon as he had initiated it. Christine looked at him, expectedly.

"I do."

There was a moment of intense silence between them, and Christine felt herself filling with some unknown pride. The man she had admired and looked up to for the past two years had finally admitted that he harboured feelings towards her, and that he would trust in her his darkest secrets once the time came. And she could not ignore his choice in words in promising to share this part of him exclusively with her.

A third voice spoke up, "Okay, guys, I hate to cut this heartwarming moment short, but y'all better be on with the mission now."

How bloody marvelous. When I intend to tell something exclusive to Christine, the loudmouth always ends up knowing. How extraordinarily idiotic of me.

"Lucas! How long have you been listening?"

"Not very long, I just had an incredibly long debate with Nadir whether or not it's possible to tip a cow. Silly fellow thinks it's impossible."

"Lucas…" Erik began in a condescending tone.

"What do you think I'm doing over here? Eating popcorn? I have a job to do, and that's to listen in on your shit and make sure everything goes fine and dandy. I'm not responsible for what you say, and I can't be off duty. Tough."

"You could have reminded us you were there!" Christine cut in, "And Nadir's right, it's impossible. You think a cow's just going to stand there and let you push it? Like that's going to happen."

"First of all, you're operatives and you're supposed to be aware of these things, so don't go blaming me for listening to something you should have known I would be listening to. You're lucky Operations wasn't around, or he'd have both of your heads for sure. Secondly, no, Nadir's wrong. It takes 4.43 people to push a cow that is 1.45 metres in height at an angle of 23.4 degrees. This takes approximately 2,910 Newtons of force, equivalent to 4.43 people. See?"

"Whatever. I apologize for not devoting my entire life to the physics of cow-tipping." She shot back.

"Physics. Took a correspondence a few years back for it, only took me two weeks. I learned how to surf that summer." Came Lucas' haughty voice through the communicator.

"Enough!" Erik interjected, clearly not amused at the pointless bickering of the two young operatives. "We have to be focused and stop acting like children."

Lucas sighed. "What else is there to do around here? You people are so boring. I swear I'm the only one who keeps this place alive."

Erik rolled his eyes. "I liked you better when you were quiet. Christine, are you ready to go? We should be heading back soon."

"Yes, let's go."

Jane had eagerly given Christine a tour of the large manor house as soon as they had returned. She was more than happy to have shown Christine around, and was delighted in turn by the enthusiasm that the girl had displayed so far. Perhaps, in Jane's opinion, rekindling a mother-daughter relationship would not be so far-fetched. She could only hope.

Placing a portrait of a beautiful, older woman into Christine's hands, Jane smiled fondly at her 'daughter'. "Is this my- my… grandmother?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"You have a lot of her in you, Mrs. Biller." Christine offered, still assuming her character would face difficulties in calling this woman her mother just yet.

Jane seemed to sense this. "Please, if you cannot call me mother, please just call me Jane." She looked to the portrait, placing her hand over Christine's for a short moment. "I think there's a lot of her in both of us."

Christine looked up, startled. What was she supposed to say to that? She was in no way related to these women, yet Jane was seeing a likeness in her that was stirred by her own blind hope that her daughter was still alive. Christine said nothing and avoided Jane's gaze as she placed the frame back on the dresser.

"So, how did you meet Scott? You seem to be very close to him."

Jane shrugged, seemingly not wanting to talk about herself. "Through a business we used to work for."

From what she already knew about these people, it would be difficult to gather what that particular business was. It wasn't that Christine didn't know, but she assumed these would be questions that her true long-lost daughter would ask. But, that girl, whoever she was, would never know that her mother was a criminal, and that the 'business' she spoke of was much more than just that.

"I fell in love with him as soon as I met him, he is wonderful to me. We've tried having children, but it never worked. Eventually, we just gave up."

Jane watched Christine's expression, studying her through narrow, discerning eyes. Christine felt nervous under Jane's sharp gaze but managed to hold herself considerably well. "Well, it is getting late Christine, and I promised Erik I would not keep you for the entire night."

Christine smiled sweetly, relieved to be done her cover for the night. "Goodnight, Jane."

"Goodnight, my dear."

"Erik?" Christine called out, closing and locking the door behind her. She was a bit bewildered when she heard no response, but it took her longer than it probably should have to realize that the shower was going. "Lucas, is there any security in this room?"

"No, but I'd keep it down anyway. There are cameras in the hall and guards outside. If you need to talk about the mission, close the windows and lock the balcony door, you don't want them to hear you."

Christine nodded, hurriedly closing all the windows. That would probably make it a bit stuffy in the room, but it was infinitely better than being caught. She dreaded the thought of being discovered, especially with how much Jane seemed to trust her. She hadn't the slightest idea of what they would do to them, but she didn't exactly wish to find out, either.

The thick opening of a door disrupted her from her thoughts, and Christine wheeled around on her heel, only to be greeted by a half-naked Erik. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she gazed sheepishly at his strong, muscular body, achieved through his long, basically laborious years in Section, no doubt. He was covered only by a towel wrapped snuggly around his waist, and Christine watched mindlessly as tiny water droplets made their way down his chest, only to be swallowed by the towel.

Jeez, Erik, you really have been holding out on me.

"How did it go?"

"What- oh, as well as it could have, I suppose." She shrugged, tearing her eyes from Erik's wet form.

She turned around to pull the coverlet down the bed, but she could hear Erik approach her from behind. As soon as the movement stopped, two arms slid around her waist from behind, and she leant back comfortably into Erik's large frame. "Is this real?" She whispered, still unsure of whether or not he was acting. She turned around in the embrace, her arms moving up to wrap around his neck.

"It is whatever you wish, Christine." He said, reaching out to gently pull the back off her earring. He pressed something- Christine didn't know what- and took his own communicator from his ear, repeating the process. He had turned them off; cutting the communication between them and the Section.

"You know you're going to get in huge trouble for that."

Erik shrugged before catching her chin in his hand to bring her face closer. His tongue darted out, playfully teasing at her bottom lip, and he was delighted with the exquisite response he received from her. "I'll cross that bridge later. Tonight is just for us."