"Captain!" Lucas' voice from behind him was urgent and alarmed, making him turn in his seat hard and fast enough that his lower back twinged unhappily, sharply enough to let him know that it would be giving him hell later. Lucas was looking at him but immediately turned his head to look down into the main compartment of the launch. Nathan followed the teenager's gaze and was out of his seat instantly once he spotted the cause for the disruption. Henderson, to her credit, glanced back but didn't waver for a second otherwise, keeping them moving on the way to their destination.

He hurried down into the main section of the launch, barely even noticing the way Brody's men hastily cleared his path so he could get to the side bench more quickly. Dagwood was looking back and forth between him and the woman beside him, concern and confusion plain to see on his face.

Nathan lowered himself to one knee in front of her. "Wendy?" Nothing. She wasn't looking at him so much as staring, unseeing, through him. "Wendy, can you hear me?" Setting his hands on her shoulders, stiff and unmoving as they were, every inch of her body tight with tension, Nathan gave her as much of a shake as he dared. "Wendy!"

With a shallow, strained gasp she came back to herself, blinking furiously, tears spilling from her eyes to track swiftly down her cheeks. None of the colour that had drained out of her face returned and when she met Nathan's gaze her own was fearful and pained. "Nathan." It was little more than a strangled whisper. The tears had already tracked down to her chin, where they dripped down to her lap. "Oh, Nathan—" Her breath caught, hitching awkwardly.

"What is it, Wendy?" he asked her, lifting his hands from her shoulders to either side of her face. "What's happened?"

He felt her try to shake her head in his hands, the effort falling short not because of his touch but because she was already trembling so much that it was all but impossible to tell the difference. "Something—" She had to pause to swallow and even when she tried again her voice was unsteady and thin. "I don't know." Her head shake then was easier to distinguish as she fought to pull the tattered edges of her composure back together. Nathan knew that she hated to seem out of control or vulnerable, that the last thing she wanted was to be seen by the crew when she was like this. Somehow, even though he wouldn't have thought it possible, it made him resent the woman they were chasing even more.

"It's all right," he told her, his voice hushed so that no one outside of her and Dagwood would hear. The GELF would say nothing of this, Nathan knew. The men behind him would keep this to themselves as well, at least if they knew what was good for them. If Nathan didn't give them hell for gossiping like school children himself then Lieutenant Brody would, he was sure. "Take a breath. Take your time." He moved his hands back down to her shoulders and rubbed them up and down the very tops of her arms.

It took her more than a minute to collect herself, squeezing her eyes shut and wiping her hands quickly and with a quiet sense of desperation over her face, down her cheeks and the underside of her jaw and chin. With a few deep breaths she finally seemed to come back to herself a little more, at least enough to speak without losing her voice before she could get more than two words out. "Something happened," she said, confirming what anyone looking on had already suspected. "I don't know what," she went on, shaking her head apologetically, "but it felt awful." He saw her swallow again, as if a bad taste was sticking in her mouth and she couldn't shift it. "Nathan, whatever's happened—" Her breath shuddered on the way in, and again on the way back out. "I've never felt anything like it."

That, it seemed, was as descriptive as she could be. It wasn't much but it was something to go on, some small scrap of information that they had now which they hadn't had before. Perhaps to the rest of the party in the launch it seemed like nothing at all but Nathan would be keeping it in mind, held tightly like something precious, trusting that he would know when to use it if the opportunity to do so presented itself.

Whatever that something turned out to be, whatever Wendy had felt, it left a cold and uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that continued to grow even after he assured himself that she was going to be all right to continue, and even after he headed back up to the cockpit of the launch to reclaim his seat at the helm. By the time he had himself settled back in his chair, performing a cursory sweep of the instruments and readouts to bring himself back up to speed on their location and status, he had almost convinced himself that they had to be prepared for the worst.

Almost.

Her head was pounding fiercely, a sick and unsteady feeling crashing through her in terrible waves that alternated between threatening to spill her to the floor and feeling like she might empty her stomach right there on the spot. Neither was preferable. Neither was acceptable.

She had come back out of the room with less colour in her cheeks and a fine sheen of sweat over her face, neck, and chest, something that Evan had picked up on immediately. She sensed his concern, as easy to identify as a large black cloud in an otherwise clear sky. And she felt his disapproval. That was like the first threatening rumble of thunder in that rolling cloud. It was impossible to miss.

Saying nothing to either dismiss his fears or support them Irina had walked past him and back into the main room. That, she knew, would be ground zero for what was to come. What was coming. It was creeping ever closer, drawing nearer and nearer with every passing second, as inevitable as the dawn. Her awareness of their proximity had dimmed quite a bit in the wake of what had been done in that room but she could still feel them. If she reached, if she stretched herself, they were there. Coming closer. Drawing in.

Even with the pounding in her skull and the wavering watery feeling in her knees, even with that diminished capacity to feel them coming she wasn't afraid. What was there to fear? What could she possibly have to be concerned about, even? They were little more than ants compared to her, insignificant and thoroughly unthreatening.

Despite his doubts and his jealousies she would always have Evan. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and beyond, no matter what stood in his way. And Irina knew full well, better than anyone, that nothing stood in his way, at least not for long. Those things ended up broken and tossed aside, discarded like so much rubbish. In the past it was something she had very much enjoyed watching but today she might not take so much pleasure in it.

Today there was too much at stake, too much she didn't care to part with or sacrifice. She glanced down at the sealed packet that had been so desperately smuggled off the seaQuest, information that would fetch millions on the black market, plans and details and schematics she had worked tirelessly to retrieve from what most would consider an impossible source. It was priceless.

But it wasn't the only thing she wasn't willing to part with. It wasn't the only prize she planned to fight to keep hold of.

Those who were coming for her, coming for them, would learn the hard way what happened to those who thought they could take what was rightfully hers.

She had debated bringing Addison with them. Not directly into whatever unknown situation they were about to walk into, obviously, but at least on the launch. If she was being really honest with herself she was starting to feel genuinely sorry that she hadn't given in to the urge. It felt like they could use all the luck they could get right about then. Even surrounded by people she trusted, even going so far as to say she trusted them with her life, she felt unnerved and uneasy. There were a lot of unknowns in this situation, it felt like a lot of things could go wrong in too many ways for her to feel anything else.

But she did her best not to show it. It was important to keep those sorts of things as well contained as possible, especially given who they were about to go up against. Given what they were about to go up against.

Lonnie's experience with psychics was limited, the only direct encounter she could recall was with the comatose man who had called himself The Avatar, and even that hadn't been direct and targeted specifically at her. She, Miguel, Lucas, and Commander Ford had been caught up in what had happened at Aleph Colony and as disorienting and unpleasant as it had been to feel the force of his power, what little of it had been able to get through Wendy's shield, it hadn't had a lasting effect. They had all bounced back quickly enough, thankfully. If they hadn't it was entirely possible Wendy wouldn't have come back from that place.

She turned her gaze in the other woman's direction briefly, concerned about what had happened on the launch but confident enough in Doctor Smith's abilities to trust that she could continue. Wendy had insisted that she could, at least, and Lonnie respected the other woman enough to take her at her word. She would never do anything so reckless as to put the rest of the team at risk. She would put herself directly in the line of fire before she allowed anything like that to happen.

They had paused a little way out for Brody to brief his men one last time, sending them out around the building in a wide but tight perimeter so Irina Dvornikov would meet some sort of resistance no matter where she tried to make her escape. They were working on the assumption that she was still inside what Lucas had determined to be an old, decommissioned and abandoned textiles factory. The place hadn't been in use for more than a decade and should be fairly empty, he had said, but that was another assumption.

There were a lot of those flying around, Lonnie found herself thinking, though she tried to keep a tight hold on the concern that accompanied that realisation.

The men had followed their orders and headed out and Lonnie had taken a good look at the exterior of the building, unable to stop herself from wondering if they might be too late and the woman was no longer inside. Maybe Miguel wasn't in there anymore either.

The thought made her stomach churn.

She looked across to Wendy, an unconscious glance, hoping to see some kind of reassurance on the other woman's face but there was nothing of the sort. Wendy wasn't even looking at her. If she had picked up on anything Lonnie had been feeling then she was keeping that well and truly to herself. Lonnie suspected it was more likely that the other woman hadn't sensed it, her powers focused elsewhere.

"Can you feel anything?" Captain Bridger asked her, his voice lowered despite the fact that any psychic in the vicinity would render such efforts useless.

Several moments passed in silence before Wendy shook her head in a negative. "She could be shielding herself from me," she said, to the Captain specifically, but they were all standing close enough together that the rest of them could hear her easily.

"What about Miguel?" Brody asked, leaning in a little, having scanned the area to make sure his men were well on their way and just to make sure they weren't being watched by any conventional means.

Wendy turned her head and looked at him, staying quiet long enough for that churning sensation in Lonnie's stomach to start up again. "If she's shielding herself," Wendy said at last, "she could be shielding him as well."

"Is that what you felt on the launch, maybe?" Lucas looked quietly hopeful as he made the suggestion. Lonnie couldn't blame him. She wanted that to be the case as well.

With another shake of her head Wendy said, "I don't know. I've never felt anything like it." After only a moment she added, pointedly, "Like her."

That was far from comforting. Lonnie found herself clutching her weapon that little bit tighter to herself, casting a glance to her side where Piccolo was standing, looking equally troubled.

"Okay." Brody glanced at Bridger, receiving a nod as confirmation to continue laying out the plan of action. "According to what Lucas found there are two entrances on this side of the building, one at each end. We'll split up and use both entrances. Doc', Captain, you two stick with me. Henderson, you take Piccolo, Lucas, and Dagwood to the other end."

Lonnie gave as firm a nod as she felt she could manage. Normally she wouldn't have been in a position to take up any sort of lead. Normally Miguel would have been one of those in their little ground combat unit and he not only had more experience than her but he outranked her. She hadn't been expecting to do what was being asked of her. She couldn't let that rattle her though, she had plenty of experience of her own and she knew she could handle herself in tough situations. Hadn't she done so many times before this? Why should this be any different?

She didn't let her brain give any responses to that thoroughly rhetorical question.

"If anyone sees anything suspicious call it out. Otherwise, maintain radio silence." Brody swept his gaze over the party and when there were no objections offered he gave a nod. "All right. Let's go."

Lonnie and her little group didn't hesitate after that, heading off in the direction of the secondary entrance point to the far end of the building before them. She kept them back and as much to the shadows as possible, wanting distance and natural cover in case they were being watched. The distance was more to throw off any psychic sweeps of any sort but considering the woman's range so far, given all that they had seen, she suspected that was probably a futile effort on her part.

Tony took up the rear, the only other member of the party with any actual ground combat experience, with Lucas right behind her. Dagwood followed the teenager dutifully, having to hunch his impressive frame down quite a bit in order to keep from being overly conspicuous. They were probably still fairly easy to spot, she knew, but it was worth making the effort anyway.

Once they reached the secondary entrance she had Lucas check for any electronic locking mechanisms or energy outputs of any kind, taking full advantage of the few devices he had brought with them along with his expertise. He was quick about it, but thorough, and told her in as few words as possible that there was nothing of any kind around the entrance that he could pick up with his gear. It frustrated her that that assurance wasn't as comforting as it should have been, but she kept that to herself and gave Tony a nod when he gestured to the door, offering to open it while she covered it with her weapon.

There was nothing on the other side. Still, she was cautious as she approached the doorway and crept inside, sweeping her weapon from side to side, ready to cover the others while they followed her inside if the need arose. But there was nothing to be seen or heard, no movement or presence of any kind. Lonnie felt the frown form on her face and glanced sidelong to Lucas, asking him in a hushed whisper, "Anything?"

He gave his head a shake. "No, I—" He was frowning too. "The signal is here, but I'm not picking up anything else."

That was strange but she didn't let herself get distracted. "Where?" The signal, she meant.

Keeping his eyes on the screen of the device before him Lucas raised an arm and gave a distinct waving gesture off to her right, and a little ahead. He brought his gaze up then and said, "In there."

Lonnie followed his gaze, keeping her weapon raised, and clocked what he meant immediately. Looking isolated and a little out of place in the middle of the wide open floor now that all of the equipment was long gone there was a room, completely walled off, its door closed and windows shuttered. If she was honest with herself, it looked a little—

"Creepy."

She glanced at Tony, who gave her a one-shoulder shrug.

He wasn't wrong. He had read her mind, actually. Part of her wondered if that was in the literal sense, but then she reminded herself that his ability was latent, so much so that he could barely use it. Tony never seemed to want to either, particularly, at least as far as she had seen.

"Lucas," she said, getting his attention easily. "Stay with Tony and Dagwood. I'm going to check it out." She glanced at Piccolo who gave her a brisk nod to tell her he was good and then she headed off in the direction of what had to have once been an office of some sort, most likely for a floor manager or someone along those lines. She could see it now, someone peering through those blinds to make sure the employees were hard at work before heading back to their desk to take care of papers and any number of other small executive tasks. The workers probably wouldn't have liked them very much, that person peering through those blinds. But all of them were long gone, just like the machinery, and now only the office remained.

Not entirely sure what she was going to find once she reached it she cast her gaze about briskly and regularly as she went, trying to make out the sounds of movement from the other end of the building where Jim and his small party had made their own entrance. She wanted to make contact, break radio silence, but Jim had given them an order. And she would follow it.

With one gloved hand she reached for the doorknob, keeping her body back from the opening as she twisted it, half-expecting it to resist her. But it didn't. It gave easily, all things considered, surprisingly enough considering its age and disuse, and she nudged it enough to send it swinging inward. Waiting, counting off several seconds, she leaned around the doorway just enough to check for any possible hostiles who might be lying in wait, ready to ambush.

But there was only one figure in the room. The sight of them made her heart just about jump up into her throat.

"Miguel." Lowering her weapon she hurried into the room and directly over to him. His head was bowed, his upper body leaned forward just enough to tell Lonnie that the only thing keeping him from toppling right out of the chair was whatever was binding his hands behind his back. Just visible through his thick dark hair at the back of his head was a strip of something pale and once she crouched to get a look at his face she saw that it was a gag. That was the first thing she got rid of, doing so as carefully as she could.

It was while she was pulling it from his mouth that Miguel stirred, groggily at first and then more certainly. Before he could jerk himself all the way in the chair and possibly do himself any further harm she said in a low voice, "Hey, whoa, it's me. It's Lonnie." She had a hand on his chest, wanting to take his face in her hands but she almost didn't dare. She was glad that she hadn't, once he lifted his head far enough for her to see his face. That darkening bruise across the left side of his jaw looked nasty already. "Take it easy," she went on, meeting his gaze as it cleared and steadied, a good deal of the panic fading away as he got his first good look at her in return. Lonnie offered him a small smile. "It's okay. We're going to get you out of here."

His breathing was a little rough, heavy with alarm, but he let out what sounded like a sigh. "Lonnie," he said, reassuring her that he knew enough about what was happening that he would probably be able to move. "Thank God."

"Sit tight," she said, half-expecting a slightly sarcastic retort of some kind given her choice of words but nothing came, so she just moved around behind him, getting a look at the restraints holding him. Part of her had been dreading cuffs of some kind, possibly even electronic ones that she would have to get Lucas in here to disable, and she felt a flush of relief when she saw nothing of the sort. The ropes looked tight, uncomfortably so, but they would be a lot easier to deal with than what she had been worried about. Quickly and quietly she withdrew a knife from her belt, saying as she did so, "Hold still," before she got to work with the short, sharp blade.

As she worked she glanced around the chair to the doorway, checking not only for any possible dangers but also to see if she could spot Tony and the others, but they were nowhere in sight. They must have hung back, sticking to the shadows provided by the walkway overhang she had spotted above, circling the entire lower level. Lucas was probably working away with his computer, either trying to pin down any other signals or doing his best to shut down the one they had traced here. Lonnie couldn't help but wonder where it was, that device. Miguel was carrying it somewhere, he had to be if Lucas was still picking it up right where he had been locked up, but where?

Speaking of where.

"The woman," she said to him. "Irina Dvornikov." Normally she might have cared about mispronouncing a name like that but right then she didn't care. "Do you know where she is? Is she still here somewhere?"

"Uh—" Miguel sounded thoughtful as well as a little disoriented, still coming around from whatever it was that must have knocked him out. "I'm not sure." He wasn't quiet long before he said, with more certainty, "No. No, she, uh—" He glanced back as the ropes gave, freeing his wrists. "She left a while ago. I'm not sure how long."

Lonnie didn't think the Captain would be comforted by that news but they would figure it out. They would think of some way to stop that information hitting the black market and spreading to the worst possible parties. They had to.

"Okay," she said, coming around to his front again. She still had to free his ankles. "Nearly done," she told him.

"I guess she didn't want me going after her," Miguel said, trying for light humour but to Lonnie he just came across as resigned.

"Hey," she said, lifting her eyes to his. "There was nothing you could have done. Okay?" He didn't respond so she went on, "From the sounds of it no one could have stopped her." She had been intending to tell him about the device that the woman had used but something in his voice made her second guess herself. That was probably the last thing he wanted to hear, and there was every chance he already knew about it anyway. "I'm just sorry we couldn't do more to help you." She had one ankle free, tossing the cut ropes off to the side before shifting position to work on the other.

"It's okay."

She lifted her head, a wave of disappointment and self-reproach crashing through her. "No it's not." This was probably neither the time nor the place but she suddenly couldn't stop herself. "We should have realised something was wrong sooner. We should have known." And the fact that they hadn't had been eating away at her ever since they had found out what was really going on.

Miguel was watching her face. Thoughtful again. "You mean you should have known?"

That surprised her a little, and not knowing what to say at first she dropped her attention back to the last restraint. Her knife had fallen still while she'd been talking. "I—" She tried to use the sure way she moved the blade back and forth to steady herself and her suddenly scattered thoughts but it didn't work nearly as well as she had been hoping. "Yes," she admitted at last, without looking up.

His voice was quiet when he asked, "Why?"

God, but that felt like a loaded question, and suddenly she became all too aware of the weight of his gaze on her, so heavy and focused. It was a lot. Almost more than she could stand, actually. She didn't say anything until the blade had cut all the way through the last of the rope but when she did speak the steadiness of her own voice surprised her. "I think you know why."

She looked up at him then, finding him looking down at her. There was a knowing light in his eyes as they met hers and she felt strangely small. Vulnerable. She didn't care for it.

Her voice sounded thinner and quieter then when she asked, "Can you stand?" She had taken her eyes from his, her confidence to meet his gaze well and truly shaken. What a stupid time to say such a thing. Such a stupid thing. What had she been thinking? She thought for a moment about staying in her crouch so he wouldn't see whatever flush of embarrassed heat had rushed into her cheeks but they had to get moving. So she pushed herself to her feet, waiting for him to confirm or deny so they could head back to the others one way or another. Maybe she would have to call Dag—

He was on his feet without a word and one of his hands had gone to her chin, lightly but just firmly enough to tilt her head up again. She found herself looking into his eyes once more, wondering with a sense of subdued disbelief how he could be so composed after everything that had happened, after everything that had been done to him, but then he did something that shattered every single thought going through her head.

Miguel kissed her.

There was a sound. So quiet, so distant, so hard to pick out in the endless emptiness. It echoed faintly from every direction and he closed his eyes against the impossibility of it. How was there an echo with nothing for the sound to reverberate off of? No walls, no cliffs, no hard edges, no edges of any kind. So how was there an echo?

God, but that was so insignificant. So meaningless.

That sound. It was a voice.

And he knew that voice.

Didn't he?

There. Again.

Yes. Yes, he knew that voice. Knew it well.

"Lonnie?"

It couldn't be. Surely.

Again.

But there it was. And was it getting louder? Was that only because he had noticed it, identified it as speech? He didn't care why. He only cared that it was.

"Lonnie!"

And another sound then. Another voice.

Cold dread crept through him, starting in his belly and spreading swiftly outward.

No, no. No no no, no.

"Lonnie! Lonnie!" Fear had joined the dread and he turned and shouted, calling that name at the top of his lungs, until his voice was hoarse and his throat was raw, each renewed cry of her name making it more and more painful to do so. But he kept going because he had to reach her. She needed to hear him. The real him.

But it was too far. Too out of reach.

And it was too late.

It stole her breath as well as her thoughts and for what felt like far too long she did nothing at all, just stood there with her face angled up to his, feeling his lips against her own. Feeling the warmth of him so close, the solid strength of him against her. She could smell him too, this close, with next to nothing between them.

Not the time. Not the place. Some small part of her scattered brain that was still aware told her as much in short sharp reprimands but instead of paying heed to that voice she responded to that kiss instead. Her empty left hand rose and touched to the side of his face, no longer resisting the urge to touch him now that he had stepped so boldly across the line.

It was still inappropriate. Still against regulation. She knew that. He knew that.

But they were doing it anyway.

And then, abruptly and without warning, they weren't.

There was a sudden strong pressure around her right hand before it was emptied and in the same instant that his lips broke from hers Miguel's arm was around the back of her shoulders, taking hold of one firmly enough to spin her around while she was still standing right up against him. The hard jerk made her gasp, her arm still raised where she had been touching his face, pinned securely against her own chest as Miguel's arm closed around her from behind, holding him back against her.

She remembered then, as its edge brushed dangerously against her throat, what she had been holding in her right hand.

The knife.

Miguel was holding it to her throat and speaking in her ear, saying, "Too little too late, Henderson."

Her knees went weak. His arm around her, trapping her against him, was the only thing holding her up as regret and anger and shock came crashing over her in violent waves.

What had she done?

Lonnie herself, so foolish and reckless and stupid, but not just her.

That awful woman. That awful, hateful, cruel, selfish woman.

What had she done?