Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

CHAPTER 27:

"What do you prefer?" Martin asked Thomas as he unlocked the arsenal locker. Thomas glanced around, surveying his choices. "I don't know, pick one," he told the head of security. "As long as I can pull the trigger and it fires something, it doesn't really matter." And nothing in here is as flashy as the yellow gun of Philip's anyway.

Martin handed him a heavy handgun and Thomas turned it over in his hands. "This'll work."

Martin went over to the sign-out sheet to issue the pistol out. When he got there, he frowned. "Wait a moment." He picked up the clipboard, studied it. He turned to the guard on duty. "When did this person come in?" he demanded.

The younger man looked at the sheet. "Just before you did, sir," he told Martin. "Said they were picking it up for a Thomas somebody."

"That's me," Thomas barked. The guard's face paled.

"I-I"

"I'll deal with you later," Martin threatened. He handed the sheet to Thomas. "We've got a problem."

"I gathered that," Thomas said dryly, glancing at the check out sheet. His eyes widened. "You're joking."

Margaret Williams.

"Why would she check out a pistol?" Thomas wondered, his mind racing. "Unless..."

"Unless she's our palace mole," Martin said. He pulled out his phone, flicked through his messages. "Thomas. Take a look at that photo. What do you see?" He handed Thomas the phone barking at the guard on duty to ring up Nick.

Thomas studied the photo of their suspect. Andre Dumond...Around the eyes, the shape of the face... "He looks a hell of a lot like Margaret, doesn't he?" Thomas realized. "They're related."

Martin was yelling into the phone as Thomas took off running. "Nick. I need a location on Margaret!"

"Let me help you with that," Margaret told Philip, holding the door open for him as he left his office. Philip balanced a cup of coffee in one hand and the folder with the budget in the other. The Graphite Energem felt warm against his chest.

"Thank you." He took a deep breath and let it out.

"Nervous for today?" Margaret asked him.

"A bit," he replied as they headed for the chamber. "I have confidence in my friends," he added. "I'm more worried for everyone else than myself."

"We'll be fine," Margaret said. She put a hand on his arm. "It'll all work out in the end."

He stopped midstride, glanced down at her. Margaret blushed and removed her arm. "I-I-"

"I don't mind," Philip assured her. Then, boldly... "Perhaps after this morning…we can discuss that further?"

She ducked her head. "I…I'd like that."

He smiled at her. "Good." The two of them continued walking, heading to the chamber. Margaret held the door open for him and Philip slid past her.

A shot rang out. Philip dropped the budget report and the coffee as he rolled, going for cover behind the podium on the platform. "Margaret! Get back!" he yelled to her. He looked over at her and frowned. "Wait…" he glanced at her hands. "Why do you have a pistol?"

"I'm trying to help you!" Margaret told him, firing blindly into the area she'd heard the shot.

"Don't move!" Philip glanced across the platform to where Nick de Latour was standing, his pistol leveled at Margaret. "Drop it!"

A voice somewhere out in the chamber yelled, "Margaret! No!" Another shot went into the wall near Nick's head, and he ducked back through the doorway. Another shot rang out, and someone howled in pain.

Then silence. The only thing Philip could hear was his heartbeat in his ears and his breathing.

"Prince Philip!" Philip jerked at the sound of Thomas's voice. It was echoing through the chamber somewhere.

"Here!" Philip yelled from his cover, his eyes never leaving Margaret, who had turned….her gun now pointed at him.

Philip went pale. "Margaret? What-"

"Let him go!" Margaret yelled. "Let him go or I…I'll shoot Philip!"

"Margaret." Philip rose slowly to his feet. The doors burst open on either side, Martin through one and Nick through the other. "What-what is the meaning of all this?"

Margaret ignored him. "Thomas! Let my brother go!"

Philip, his hands out where she could see them so he didn't startle her, turned slowly to look out over the empty seats. Standing near the back, Thomas had a man on his knees, blonde hair, wearing a dress shirt and tie, a card hanging around his neck. "Brother?" He looked back at Margaret. "I-I don't-"

"His name is Andre Dumond Williams," Martin said, cautiously inching into the room from the side hall. "He's Margaret's brother."

Brother? Philip studied Margaret. Her face was expressionless at the revelation. But that means...he's…this whole time, she's…Oh, God…

Thomas's words echoed in his ears: "Are you prepared to deal with that kind of betrayal?"

"The man that's been trying…the man that killed…" Philip couldn't put a sentence together. His head was spinning at the revelation. He looked at his personal assistant, a woman he'd known for years. "Explain yourself!" he said forcefully. He held up a finger in Thomas's direction. "Thomas, do nothing until she explains herself!"

"Margaret-" Andre spoke up.

Thomas nailed him in the side with shoe. "Shut up."

Margaret kept the gun pointed at him. "Andre worked for the Zandarian Free Press, using his middle name as his byline. He didn't want my standing at the palace to influence anyone. He also made money on the side, selling tabloid photos of you and Annabeth to the tabloids. When you and Annabeth got divorced…the money wasn't coming in like it used to, and there was the drinking problem…it was all a mess." She took a breath and let it out. "I told Andre when the exterior guards changed shifts and where the cameras were so he could get the photo of you in your room. The tabloids told him they wanted more, but you hardly ever left, or you went to America where we couldn't follow! I told him about the visit to the children's hospital."

"Margaret," Philip breathed. "You…Alvin…"

"We didn't mean for that to happen!" she cried. "Andre got overeager. It was an accident! He was a wreck about it Philip, really. It rattled him so badly they fired him from the paper, though he never went to collect is things."

"It rattled him." Philip put a hand to his fiorehead. "Margaret, he killed Alvin Lourdes!" He thought of something else. "And the charity gala?" He recalled how he'd been standing so close to him. "You're lucky he didn't hit you!"

"We knew photos of the chaos would sell well with the tabloids," Margaret said. "And it worked…for a time. But then you disappeared off to America again and then….when you came back, we knew we needed something."

"Were you planning on killing me?" Philip asked her quietly. He took a step toward her. "Would a photo of my death sell?!"

"No!" Margaret was crying now, the gun shaking in her hand.

"Your Highness, don't move!" Nick ordered him from behind.

Philip ignored him, taking another step toward her. "I trusted you," he told her. "From the moment you were hired, I kept you in confidence! Only to find that this entire time, you...you've been plotting my assassination?!" He almost choked on the word. It was unbelievable.

Her eyes flickered out into the chamber. "No! Andre was going to shoot and miss and I was going to shoot back-it was all going to be just a scene! He would take my photo protecting you and with that money…"

She lowered the gun and Nick and Martin came charging in. Martin put her on her knees and Nick stood over her, gun unwaveringly pointed at center mass. She was sobbing. "Philip, I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry."

Philip felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "So am I," he said flatly. He looked at the three men who had saved his life. "Get them out of my sight."

He refused to watch them take her away. Instead, he stared at the coffee stained pages on the platform. It was where Thomas found him a few moments later, and had to practically carry him out before the press stormed the chamber. Thomas pulled him along to his office, swearing at the press to back off and get the hell out of the way. He managed to get the prince to the office and lock the door behind them, closing the drapes.

Philip stood in the middle of the dark room, a hand on his chest, silent.

"Philip-" Thomas began. His young friend whirled around. Then, he was sobbing, and Thomas crossed the room to envelope him in a hug.

Days passed. The budget meeting in the end became simply an emailed, itemized list to be approved by the courts and senate. No one saw the Prince except for Thomas and Martin. Martin and Nick drew up a short statement and released it, giving details of the story. Then, they went after the tabloids. The two were a relentless team. When the story broke of their involvement with Andre Williams, issues sat unbought on the shelves. It was looking as though they might go out of business.

Thomas placed a call to America to fill in the blanks left by the media to his friends in Amber Beach. Koda, Philip's first friend he'd made overseas, and Ivan, the knight of Zandar, were both livid, as was the rest of the group. Miss Morgan also filled Thomas in on what was happening in their own battle, and Thomas relayed the information to Philip.

Days turned to weeks.

One afternoon, Philip sat at his desk, rubbing a thumb over the glass of the photo of Queen Irene and King Philip absentmindedly, when his computer chimed with an incoming video call. Frowning, he clicked on the tab and popped open the program.

"Hey," Tyler Navarro greeted him quietly. The Red Ranger looked at his friend. Philip was showing a bit of five o'clock shadow, and dark circles under his eyes. "You look like hell," Tyler said. The joke fell flat. "So…we just want you to know-" Here he turned the screen, panned around the room. Chase, Riley, Ivan, Koda, Shelby, Keeper, and Miss Morgan all gave him a wave. "-that we're sorry for that happened to you."

" We're all glad you're safe," Shelby told him, Riley nodding in agreement.

"I wish I could have been there, Sire," Ivan told him.

"Miss you," Koda said with a sad smile and a wave.

"If you need us, mate, we're just a flight or two away," Chase said.

Philip said nothing, until a figure walked into the picture behind Tyler. He squinted, leaning forward in his chair. "Tyler…" he began quietly, "is that…is that a giant bird?"

The Rangers laughed, and Philip couldn't help but smile back. It was good to see them. Before Tyler could respond to his question, Philip's office door opened and Thomas poked his head in. "Tyler, I need to go but…thank you. All of you. We'll talk soon." He closed the screen and motioned for Thomas to come in.

"Call from America?" Thomas asked.

Philip nodded. "They look well."

Thomas handed him a printout. Philip looked at it. "This is a flight confirmation," he noted, looking up at Thomas.

Thomas nodded. "Two seats. Pack your bags, Your Highness. We're going to Amber Beach."

Philip looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Thomas, I don't know. With everything that's happened-"

"With everything that's happened, you deserve some time to process, away from things that remind you of it. Call it a holiday, if you like. And Martin's already approved it." His tone left no room for discussion.

Philip stared at him from his desk. Then, he said, "When is going to Amber Beach ever a holiday?" he countered as he stood up. Thomas chuckled, slapping him on the back as the prince moved past him to leave the room.

There he is. He's back.

Author's Note: I went back and forth a LOT on who the royal assassin would be, have been thinking about it ever since the first chapter. I hope that it was a twist that made sense and you didn't see coming! Philip's story, of course, is far from over. We still have the series finale to take care of. Stay tuned, and thanks for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting!