Moira gathered up her papers and sat down at the conference table. People were slowly filing in, mostly CIA personnel. They were her co-workers and, to some extent, she considered many of them her friends.

She'd arranged it so they would be there first. While Charles was, of course, overthinking this and too worried about her, she wasn't an idiot either. Stryker had shown himself willing to use extreme methods, but she didn't think he'd risk these many witnesses.

As she finished getting settled, Stryker walked in, two senators behind him. He saw her and gave a thin-lipped smile. Again, that look of a snake and a mouse. She forced herself to show a neutral expression as he walked over.

"Well MacTaggert," he said, "I hope you don't bear me too much ill will over this. I've been informed the process will go quicker if you cooperate and explain your filing system to me."

He leaned on her chair.

"I wouldn't want the working atmosphere to be too hostile," he said.

"Awfully confident," Moira said.

His smile broadened.

"I have quite a few members of the different security teams on my side," he said, "At this point, why, it might be considered un-American not to share what you found."

"Fine words coming from you," she said, "Civil liberties violations ring a bell?"

"Harsh," he said, "But still, no hard feelings, right?"

She looked up at him, and grinned while narrowing her eyes.

"No," she said, "I hope you don't have any."

He frowned, but her boss came in, followed by the last few guests at the meeting. Still frowning, Stryker walked away and took his seat. Moira could tell he was staring at her, but she had let her expression slide back to neutral.

He would get no more warning about what was to come.

"Ladies and gentlemen," her boss said, "I felt we needed a progress report on Agent MacTaggert's research. Now, last I checked, Colonel Stryker was still interested in an inter-agency lending of her research."

"More like taking it and re-purposing, but yes," Stryker said, still looking at Moira, "As far as I can tell, it's just gathering dust. We could actually make it into something useful."

Her boss gritted his teeth. She knew he was struggling not to blow his top. Perhaps she should have told him what she was about to do, but the only person she had trusted with this was Levine. Moira couldn't risk Stryker finding out somehow before it was time.

As much as she disliked him, he was smart. If he'd known what was coming, he might find some way to counteract it.

"MacTaggert, any final words on the subject?" her boss asked.

There was a hint of pleading in his voice. To him, she knew it wasn't about the mutants. It was about the gross insult being paid to his agency, to one of his senior agents. It was his dislike of Stryker, and a million other little things.

Well, she was about to give him something he could keep himself warm with in future years whenever he saw Stryker or anyone else involved. She would consider it an early retirement gift to him.

She got up, drawing herself up to her full height.

"Yes," she said, "I've been going through my files, and I've found that, unfortunately, giving them out to any other agency would actually be illegal. Probably even within the confines of our own agency."

Murmurs spread throughout the table and Stryker's eyes narrowed. Her boss frowned, but she raised a hand.

"Now, I can't divulge all of this," she said, "But I know some of you here in this room are familiar with the Cyttorak mission?"

A few startled glances were exchanged, while others had a sense of mild apprehension. Good. It confirmed no one in the room was under the impression it was a humanitarian mission that originated in South America and then extended, following a trail that led to Korea.

It was certainly the message the press had disseminated at the time, what few people inside the CIA had bought. Most of them knew it was a mission by the CIA to train rebels to fight communists in other countires. However, from what she'd been able to glean, both from the redaction, and Levine's identification of some of the other names, it had been a bit heftier than that.

How much heftier she wasn't sure, her clearance didn't go that high, but one man had started sweating. It meant that her half-truth was working, and she knew there were a few careers in the room that were depending on this staying secret.

It would only make things that much easier.

"Now," she said, "early on in my career I managed to gain a report compiled on a particular cult in that area of the world. It was obtained during that mission and, using it, I was able to match up several different theories, and even see where certain cults got their roots. It spider webbed throughout my work, a building block. In fact, my research doesn't even make sense without it."

Something of an exaggeration, yes, but not by too much, and a necessary one. One of the more senior agents leaned forward, looking thoughtful.

"If memory serves," he said, "that mission, and everything pertaining to it, is under embargo for the next fifteen years."

"Yes," Moira said, "It is. The only people who can use it are, in fact the CIA, and only if they have very high clearance."

"MacTaggert," her boss said, his voice low, "I had no idea. We might need to lock all that up now."

His voice was low and regretful, but Moira would need it locked up and sealed. At least for now. The rest of the world didn't know how to use it, to respect it. Maybe in fifteen years they would.

Or maybe, when this blew over, she'd ask Peter for a favor.

"Understood sir," she said.

Her boss gave her an admiring look before clearing his throat.

"People weren't supposed to get files from Cyttorak," he said, "How did you even get yours?"

"Perhaps someone underestimated it," Moira said.

"I object to this," snapped Stryker, "You've been fighting us from the beginning. How do we know that you didn't just make this up to keep us from getting what we need?"

"Colonel Stryker, you will behave or you will be removed from this room," her boss snapped.

Moira cocked her head, and gave Stryker another smile. He was fuming, furious, flabbergasted. It was a good look on him.

"If I made it up, then I don't suppose there's any way an agent like me who didn't participate in any special ops would know that the name of the strike leader was Cain Marko," she said.

If possible, the faces in the room became a shade paler.

"Agent MacTaggert!" one of the agents roared, "Hold your tongue! That's a state secret!"

"He's right, minus the yelling," her boss said, "MacTaggert, you've proved your point. From this moment on, please refrain from discussing any more classified information, even if that particular piece of information is already known to everyone here."

She nodded, inwardly pleased. Stryker was grinding his teeth together. She hoped he ended up damaging them, chipping them away into nubs. Maybe they were already rotten, like the rest of him.

The dentist bill would be enormous. It was a comforting thought.

"Now then," her boss said, "I hope you all know this means we can't hand over the research. There are parts of that mission, for safety's sake, that have to remain sealed. We can't jeopardize that, even if this information is as valuable as Colonel Stryker is making it out to be."

"This is ridiculous," Stryker said sourly, "Cyttorack was, to my knowledge, not about mutants. Whatever they found doesn't have to do with the overall mission."

"First off," her boss said, "anything that happened in that mission is classified. It's all sealed, even the names, as was so rudely pointed out a minute ago. So you can just shut down that stupid line of thinking right now."

"We could declassify some of it," suggested Stryker, irritated, "Parts of certain missions have been declassified in the past."

Moira got ready to speak, she had expected this sort of answer, but her boss didn't give her a chance. It seemed that, even in her own estimates, she'd failed to figure out just how furious he was at Stryker.

"Oh yes? Which part exactly?" her boss asked, "I'm not going to have you going through all of Agent MacTaggert's research to find that out and seeing things you're not supposed to. You don't have clearance, and you're not CIA. So, I'll have to ask you to refrain from touching bureau property until the seal expires. After that, we might talk."

Stryker looked at the two senators with him but, suddenly, they were looking very, very worried. She could almost sympathize with them. A few senior officials were glaring at them, no doubt wondering how they could hurt those two men for dredging up Cytorrack. In their minds the mission could have been exposed if she hadn't found this in time, and that could have destroyed them.

She watched the senators. They were out of their depth, trying to figure out just what they had stumbled on, how much trouble they were in. But, remembering why they were there, that it was because they had thrown their lot in with Stryker, she lost that sympathy.

"I'll lose out on a possible breakout in all this," said Stryker, "Fifteen years."

"Then maybe you need to hire smarter people," her boss said, "But this meeting is over. I don't know about the rest of you, but these past few days have been a giant headache. I'm getting lunch, right after I talk to Agent MacTaggert to iron out the details on sealing up her research."

He nodded to her, and she gathered her papers and got up. She didn't look behind her as she left, trying to keep up a professional facade. After she made it to her boss's office, once the door was closed, he whipped around and pounded on the desk.

"Brilliant," he laughed, "Brilliant. I can't believe you managed to pull that one out. Did you see that little bastard's face?"

"It was pretty good," Moira smiled.

"God, I'm sorry about your research, I am, but that was priceless," he chortled, sitting down.

"Maybe it's for the best," she said, "Especially given what I'm about to tell you next."

He raised an eyebrow, and Moira braced herself.

"I'm going to be handing in my retirement paperwork right after we're done here," she said.

Her boss gaped at her.

"But...but you won!" he said.

"Yes, and I'm tired of having to fight these battles," Moira said, "I'm tired of having to justify resources to get someone out of the country, of only going after the cults the agency decides sometimes instead of the ones I think are genuinely exploiting mutants."

"Agent MacTaggert-"

"I'm tired...tired of all this," she said, gesturing around her, "I think it's time I turned in my paperwork before I became spent."

Her boss looked at her for a long moment.

"I can't talk you out of it, can I?" he asked.

"No," Moira said, "I'll give you two weeks notice, but after that, I have to go."

He leaned back, looking at the ceiling.

"You've done good work MacTaggert," he said, "I can only hope you know what you're doing, and that you'll do good work wherever you're going next."

"Thank you sir."

"Don't thank me," he said, "I can't recall giving you much. But thank you for shoving this in that asshole's face, and thank you for your service."

She nodded briefly, knowing a dismissal when she heard it. Moira turned and walked out of the office, trying to hide the lightness in her step. Everything was going smoothly. She'd be back with Kevin and Charles at the Institute in two weeks.

As she walked toward her office, she moved past the conference room. Stryker was still there with the two senators, talking, but he stopped when she walked by. His expression once again became snake-like, but in a more calculating way.

And, despite her victory, she couldn't help but feel a shiver.