My computer problems are still on so I'm posting this looong chapter to make amends for the delay in posting. ;-)
Take care!

(TOWDNWTBN and Vale: as we're close to the end…thank you for everything!)

The elevator doors to Kepler's apartment slid smoothly open twenty minutes later. Thanks to his phone's magic alarms, Christine awaited Dylan leaning against the back of the sofa in a posture she hoped radiated confidence. She barely had had the time to make herself a cup of coffee but the caffeine along with the adrenaline boost made her feel she could do anything, figure out everything, solve every puzzle and riddle.

Her super powers were challenged by Dylan's blank face as he nodded in a form of greeting and walked straight to the kitchen. He had changed his expensive morning suit to his usual jeans and looked calm, composed. Suspicious.

"May I?"

He waved his hand towards the coffee machine and started making his own coffee with the ease of a person who had done that in that particular kitchen a thousand times before. The subtle message didn't go unnoticed but this wasn't a matter of rivalry or defining what role each of them had in Kepler's was a matter of honesty and betrayed trust.

"How did it go?" he asked, finally, with a large mug in his hands before taking the first sip.

"Let's just say I won't be using my BDS lab jacket any time soon." She left her small glass espresso cup on the kitchen table.

"Another?" he asked her as if he were the host, as if he called the shots and the tone irritated her. She nodded and let him play his game. "What happened?" He handed her the new cup with the confidence of a barista.

"I gave my notice but in a position like mine they don't let you mess with their stuff when they know you're leaving. Or at least Raoul didn't let me. I'll pass by tomorrow for some papers but that's a mere technicality. The confidentiality agreement I'd signed when I was hired covers everything so we'll go our separate ways. A friendly divorce. I'm a free and unemployed woman," she added, tormenting him with her delay in answering his real question. She had to give it to him. He reacted well under strain. Of course. He was a surgeon. That should be a given.

"What about Kepler?"

"Raoul is not the one who sent the graft. He screwed me over during Phase I, but he has no clue that Kepler is P8 or that he's alive."

"And you left him clueless—"

"If he had made the connection, he'd be in the States right now dragging Kepler back here for the sake of science."

Dylan raised a brow, challenging the image she drew. He was right. Raoul dragging Kepler? Ridiculous.

"So we're back to square one." His back was rigid when he rounded the table and walked to the living room.

"Not quite. We know that whoever planted Kepler's blood on Spencer's graft had access to his blood and his DNA and we also know how careful he is after what happened to Spencer."

Dylan's face showed he knew what was coming but instead of staying by the window he turned and sank into an armchair, stretching his long legs and crossing his ankles in a carefree posture.

"So that lead us to—?"

"You."

Only when her accusation was out in the open did he allow a hint of a smile to cross his lips. He shook his head, his smile getting broader. The "sorry-to-disappoint-you" smile.

"And why would I do that? I had the opportunity all right, but I lack the motive." He seemed to enjoy this and that made her uncomfortable. And irritated her.

"You're working with Gallagher. You made a deal to hand Kepler over to him, along with Spencer, in the States. Kepler is probably heading into a trap." That was a feeling she couldn't shake.

"But why would I do that? Considering my past with Gallagher—" He sounded interested and not at all threatened by the fact that he'd been exposed.

"I don't know…who knows why people do all the crazy things they do? Why do they betray other people? Money, power, to gain influence over other people, achieve their personal goals—" When had her accusation turned into a philosophical discussion?

Raoul…she knew. She'd known him for almost a decade. But what about Dylan? Was he such a good actor?

"Perhaps you aim at OKTO. With Spencer and Kepler out of the picture you're the next in line—"

His laughter stopped her.

"So whoever gains OKTO did it? You are so wrong about that." He seemed genuinely amused.

"Why not?"

He shrugged but remained silent. As if indifferent.

"So, it's something else you seek—"

He took a sip of his coffee, left it on the coffee table by the sofa and crossed his legs in boredom.

"Perhaps I'm an evil mastermind, seeking evil for the sake of evil. How's that for a motive? Dylan the villain. It even rhymes! I could recite Shakespeare quotes on virtue and wickedness. If only I knew them by heart—"

She didn't appreciate the irony.

"But if I recall correctly I warned you not to get involved with this, JC. Repeatedly. So even if I am the villain, you were warned." He was toying with her.

"Uh, you played the caring part, all right. You cared about my career, my father, my welfare, my relationships, who to be with, who to avoid. You're the preachy type. Then you cared about Kepler—the up till that time dangerous Kepler—his life, his welfare."

"And you find it too inconceivable that someone may care about the wellbeing of somebody who is dangerous?" His smile was calm as he raised his brows meaningfully.

She bit her lip. She knew Kepler was dangerous. That hadn't stopped her from falling for him. This wasn't going as expected. More than anything Dylan looked bored. Faked or genuine, his behavior frustrated her.

"People change. Motives and priorities change. If all this is as dangerous as you claimed in the first place, why are you bringing Cassie into it?"

This different angle shook him if the stricken look in his eyes was any indication.

"I don't intend to—"

An unfamiliar cell ring tone interrupted him.

"It must be Kepler," she said hopefully.

"You might need to take it to the other room. Some privacy—"

Dylan's words faded as after locating the phone and taking the call she almost ran to the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

"What were you thinking, confronting Raoul like that? Alone?" a very angry Kepler started from the other side of the line. No greetings, no introductions and the worst part: a Kepler angrier than she had ever heard him before. Not that she had ever seen him really angry. "Even Dylan! What is this?" he went on and listening to his voice addressing her like that left her sinking onto the bed, confused, looking around for hidden cameras she knew weren't there. "You can't go around taking risks, Christine. Especially when I'm not there but never…. You can never risk yourself, your safety like that. I can't believe this!"
At least the omnipresent Kepler sounded confused, too.

"Then you should have taken me with you." She hated the plaintive note in her voice but this was the first time she had heard him since he had left. And Kepler was always so composed.

"This is what all this is about? You're acting like that because I didn't take you with me?" he asked, incredulous.

"You know it isn't."

"Then what is it? If Raoul were on Gallagher's payroll, confronting him would put you straight within Gallagher's reach. Have you thought of that? The same goes for Dylan. Is he there with you?" he demanded, but his tone was slightly calmer now.

"In the other room. I'm in our bedroom."

"I can't believe it! If Dylan worked for Gallagher, you'd now be with Gallagher's man over there…where you're alone and helpless. What are you trying to do?"

"I'm not helpless—" she protested between her teeth. Her self-defense lessons in college were a rather pathetic argument to offer especially when she realized she had felt no fear during her encounters with Raoul or Dylan. Fear protects. What was she thinking?
"I'm not helpless," she repeated, less certain now.

"I am helpless when I think of you acting like that while I'm a thousand miles away. I'm stuck here and all you think about is how to drive me crazy."

She had to admit she hadn't thought of what she would do if either of the men proved to be working for Gallagher. She bit a nail and listened to Kepler taking deep breaths.

"What I don't believe is that after all these days you've called to chew me out for this."

"I've sent you messages."

"That's not the same and you know it."

"Forgive me for taking precautions against exposing you. If I'd known the little regard you have for your safety, we'd be communicating through Facebook, not disposable phones. By the way, you'd better get rid of this one after we talk and replace it—"

"What do you mean when you say exposing me?"

"I don't want anyone to link you to me. Especially now." His voice got lower, his tone almost defensive.

"Why not now? What happened? Are you exposed?" she demanded in one breath.

"I'm not sure. I won't be, if I manage to wrap things up in a couple of days. We just have to be cautious and you placing yourself in Gallagher's reach is the exact opposite of being cautious, Christine. It's the best way to make me lose focus." His voice sounded softer now. Gentler. "You took a great risk facing Raoul. What would you do if he were involved? What would I do then?" The same questions, a different tone and the result was totally distracting for a whole different reason. She had to concentrate to reply.

"I don't know," she mumbled. "I counted on reading him without getting caught, I guess. All I knew was that he had access…I had a dilemma…. Uh, I'd improvise, I guess—"

"When you have dilemmas like that talk to me." His tone was suddenly urgent again. "You don't improvise—"

"But you said only in case of an emergency—"

"And what part of you confronting a possible liaison of Gallagher alone is not a case of an emergency?" At least he didn't sound angry anymore.

"You didn't take me with you." She attacked another nail.

"I gave you a choice." His tone was cool, almost teasing, but there was tension in his voice.

"That wasn't a choice!" she threw back. "So, I'm certain about Raoul. You're sure Dylan is on our side?"

There was silence for a while. She had to admit her deflection was rather crude.

"I've missed you so much. I wish you were here right now." He sounded tired. She wondered if he slept, if he ate but that would be too "wife-y". She imagined Cassie calling her "mom" and restrained herself.

"Well, since I have no job obligations—"

"Christine—" He was gravely serious again.

"So what about Dylan? Do you trust him?"

"You know my opinion about trust. It blinds you. What I do know though is that Dylan will always be against Gallagher. As long as wedon'tchange sides, he'll be on our side." He mimicked the emphasis she had used before to show her he had noticed.

"So Dylan and Gallagher are incompatible—"

"If there were no Gallagher or his Library, Dylan now would probably be the head of the microsurgery department at some hospital or at least a specialist reattaching hands or fingers or nerves or whatever he used to do. Not in his wildest dreams did he imagine he'd hang around with hackers. His almost brother-in-law would be alive which means his engagement would not have fallen apart and that's the tip of the iceberg in Dylan's book. There are parts of this story that are only his to tell but aren't these reasons enough?"

She guessed they were. But what did that mean about the graft or the possible trap he was stepping into?

"Kepler—" she started.

"This is not your fight, Christine," he interrupted her. "I want you to stay out of this."

"But—"

"I mean it. I can't think straight when…you didn't have to quit BDS."

"It was my choice to make." It was her turn to be adamant.

"Okay. Then how do you feel about it? Is this a question a boyfriend is allowed to ask?"

"I don't know if it is because it's still fresh but I don't feel anything. Nothing bad anyway. Not that I know what I'll do next—"

"We'll figure this out together. Take some time, give yourself some time to think about what you'd want to do if there were no obstacles, nothing in your way."

She snorted at the absurdity of the thought. "So, you're coming back soon?"

"That's the deal. I had a minor breakthrough here but I need a few more days to figure out which lead I should follow. And a good chunk of luck. Either way I can't stay here long." She heard the apprehension in his voice. "I have to go. I sent Sam on an errand as soon as I read Dylan's message but he'll be back soon."

"Will you call back?"

Silence.

"I will. Sometime tomorrow. And Christine—" More silence. She smiled. It was as hard for him to hang up as it was for her. Neither of them was the over-sentimental type. No dramatic "I love yous" would be exchanged.

"I'll be careful and I'll call you in case of an emergency or unwanted dilemmas—"

"—or a sudden need to act like Wonder Woman."

"I promise."

Christine sat on the bed looking at the cell phone until the screen light went off. With hunched shoulders she joined Dylan in the living room.

"I'm sorry," she said in an accusatory manner. Even to her own ears she sounded like a child her mother had forced to apologize.

Dylan's smile was sad.

"You texted Kepler." Her accusation made his smile widen.

"The big guns. What did he say?"

"That I shouldn't have confronted Raoul or anyone else alone in every variation possible. And that he had a breakthrough. He may be back in a few days."

"You don't sound relieved."

"I can't shake the feeling he's in danger, that he's walking into a trap. Is it because he's away? Because I'm worried about him?" It was weird. She was asking for comfort from the man she had just accused of betraying Kepler. Suddenly her adrenaline bubble had burst in her face.

"You're worried about Kepler. It's natural. I'm worried about both of them. Spencer, too."

She sank onto the couch and rubbed her face with her hand. What was she missing?

"I'm sorry I accused you. Not that you seemed to take it to heart—" She threw him a side glance.

"Excuse me if I don't feel obligated to justify myself or explain my motives to you, JC. Especially in order to 'prove my innocence'. And if you don't mind the advice, you have to resist it."

"What?"

"The constant urge to suspect everybody. It rises inside you when you get involved with this lousy case."

"Another bit of advice—?" she teased him.

"What can I do? I'm the preachy type. My only excuse for that is an older brother syndrome and that I miss my family. I don't know…what would Adler say about my case? What about Freud? Cassandra already thinks I'm an arrogant bastard."

"I doubt it. Cassie can be frustrating but she's a great judge of character. I can't say that about myself," she offered, deflated.

"Cassandra's from another, very original world where people are allowed to have everyday problems. I feel healthy just by being around her." His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, frowning in thought.
"I don't intend to harm her, JC. Or to bring her into all this. But I can't deny myself the positive influence she has on me." He raked his blond hair with his fingers. "You know, we're not so different, you and I—"

She smiled. After Raoul, Dylan was the second person to comment on their alleged similarities. She wondered whether he'd be more successful.

"I kind of have a short temper. I lack Kepler's cool reactions. I envy him that."

The confession surprised her.

"But you seemed so composed before. So…not angered by my accusations—"

"Well, I got help."

"You texted Kepler—"

"Which made you his problem as soon as he read that message—" He flashed a smug smile.

"—and Cassie?"

"Guilty as charged." He lifted his hands in an "I give up" gesture. "That woman brings a smile to my face just seeing her or listening to her. And it's not sexual." He paused. Christine would have bet money he'd meant to say "not just sexual" but he'd avoided it. Cassie was right. Dylan was kind of a prude or shy. She didn't know which but she found it funny. "It's not a reaction only I have when it comes to Cassandra. I've noticed that," he went on, brushing his denim-covered thigh with his palm.

"You can't even imagine how true that is. She's a natural. If you want to purchase something, to persuade someone of something, bring Cassie along. I don't know how she does it. It's a gift."

"It's almost comforting to know there is this kind of people, too," said Dylan more to himself. "So, I do apologize if I am…when I get preachy and whiny."

"You're not whiny," Christine protested.

"I am. Cassandra made that very clear. I don't think I always was like this. At least I hope I wasn't …" he smiled one of his dimpled smiles as he contemplated his doubts.

"I can't go back to the way I was with Cassie," she offered. She was whining now. She needed Cassie in her life but she couldn't overcome her acting behind her back. She wished she could forget all about it or never have known what she'd done. How cowardly was that?

"That's almost comforting, you know."

She frowned in demand of explanation.

"You're still balancing between two worlds. Cassandra's mistake is a misdemeanor in my world. I bet in Kepler's world, too. In hers, in yours, it's serious. Anyway, you're under pressure now. Give it some time."

"You're very protective of her."

He shrugged in feigned indifference.

"For reasons unknown to me yet, she seems to need you in her life," he teased her. "Even a broken friendship deserves some respect, JC. For the past. For what you've been through. For who you were at the time—"

Was that why Kepler had gone searching for Spencer?

"Kepler said that without Gallagher you'd never be hanging around hackers like him and Spencer. That it's your common front against Gallagher that keeps you on the same side."

"He's probably right but he's also so wrong. I don't regret meeting Spencer and Kepler. On the contrary…I only regret the guilt. I dragged them into this that night I took that damned briefcase." He shook his head in resigned disappointment. "Yes, Kepler feels responsible for the use of his encryption," he rushed to say when she opened her mouth to speak, "but how do we know he'd ever have found out? He could have gone on with his life as if nothing had happened. And as for Gallagher…his Library is like a Hydra. You cut off one head and another grows in its place. Is there an end to all this?" He stood up and moved to the kitchen drawers. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, gulped it down and when Christine declined a drink he fixed himself another and went back to his seat. "As for their charm…. You know all about it first hand." He smiled at his glass.
"Their world has an unexpected beauty. Its own rules, principles…light and darkness. After a while you feel that the world you knew is only skin-deep. That up until then you'd lived…I wouldn't say a superficial life but a life you can't go back to."

"Is Christmas ever the same after you find out there is no Santa Claus?"She repeated his words from weeks ago. At the time she had thought he was crazy or drunk.

"It's like wearing glasses for the first time after years of myopia. Can you go back to blurry? Even what I want more than anything—to go back to an operating room—seems so distant now. Perhaps that is because I know it's not going to happen anymore and every day that passes takes me farther away." He gulped his drink and looked at her.

"Don't say that. Kepler said he had a breakthrough and with a little bit of luck—" She frowned at her own unconvincing words. If they needed luck….

"You're not superstitious, are you?"

"No."

"I wasn't either." His stare focused again on his empty glass. "In the OR most surgeons have a god complex and I didn't escape that. A mild case but still…" He smiled, lifting his brows in a self-mocking grimace. "There was no room for luck in the OR. God yes, luck no. Needing luck equals incompetence, lack of skill, talent." He sighed.
"I believe superstition is related to disaster. To lost control. When you taste that, really taste it, you become superstitious. Not black cats and nonsense like that but you start to believe in luck. In the amazing, unique timing of things where all parameters align in a particular way that defines victory or loss. And then you need luck. Are you sure you don't want one?" He raised his glass to her.

"Maybe one. To celebrate my last day at BDS."

She watched him prepare her drink with care and refill his glass.

"When I was working at the hospital I never drank. Not even beer. I don't know if I drink because I want to or to point out to myself that I'm not working at the hospital."

Christine winced at the first sip of the golden liquid. It was strong.

"My palate is not very sophisticated but Dalmore has an interesting taste. I don't care so much for the alcohol burn—" He swirled the whisky in a circle in his glass, more interested in looking at its ripples than drinking it.

"It does burn—" she smiled easier now that the alcohol was starting to find its way into her veins.

"It's supposed to have a woody taste. Do you feel anything?"

"I'm not sure I really feel it or I think I feel it."

He grimaced in doubt. "Its taste seems to change as you drink. That I can tell."

She drank a small sip and left it in her mouth before she swallowed. She shook her head, unsure. "It has character."

He nodded, staring at his still full glass in an appreciating manner. "Next time I'll serve you a Macallan. You'll see the differences. I have a Macallan 18 at my apartment. According to the experts its color is 'light mahogany'— Cassandra called it something else, I don't recall now…burnt sienna…I'm not sure. When you drink it, you're supposed to smell vanilla and cinnamon. Ginger, too, but other than a hint of cinnamon and something fruity—" He left his glass on the table beside his half-finished coffee. "You see, I do have money. Not the money I'd have if I still worked as a surgeon but I do have the money I need. Even more, to afford my toys. And I do have a job. Not my second or third choice but still something that gives me flexibility to manage all this—" He waved a hand in a vague gesture.

She focused her stare on him. Now that she wasn't accusing him he was explaining himself.

"It's more than Gallagher, more than guilt that keeps me loyal to the guys. More than their charm, also. I think I've told you…Kepler has a charm that can't be explained. Different from Cassandra's but equally strange. I'd never betray Kepler. You've never met Spence but he's charismatic in his own way. A true leader. Don't get me wrong. What he did, using people he loved like that…it was inconceivable. It still is. Wrong on so many levels," he shook his head, his stare locked on his hand resting on his thigh, "but this world…. It's as if you've discovered an underwater universe. You miss the air but you want to know, to see more of it no matter the cost. You envy but also pity the people above who know nothing about it. It was so much easier before…" His palm turned to a fist, his stare unwavering on it. He was talking more to himself.
"My worst fear is that when I finally manage to surface for some air, its taste will be different. Unsatisfying. You never know when you'll lose yourself," he risked a quick glance at her, "when you'll sacrifice your lungs for gills." He ran his fingers through his hair again. "This Dalmore is far stronger than I thought."

"First you warn me away from this path and then you tell me I can't go back, there's no real way out." She smiled at him.

"Having a suspicious mind is not the first symptom that you're already in too deep, JC." He waved a hand around. It wasn't hard to read him this time. She was living in Kepler's apartment. She had quit BDS. What was next? "Would you even have considered all this four months ago?"

"Kepler said this is not my fight." She heard the defensiveness in her voice as she tried to balance between the inevitable and still having a choice.

"Not your fight, but certainly your war now." His stare locked on hers relentlessly.

She winced at his words, at his tone. They brought to mind the way doctors had talked to her mother. Honestly. Without flourishes. To prepare herself. Make arrangements. She wondered if that was the real reason she hadn't warmed up towards him so far. She never felt comfortable around incredibly handsome men but that was minor compared to her discomfort around doctors. She couldn't stand doctors.

She finished the rest of her drink in one gulp, flinching at the taste, hating that he was right. Since Kepler was involved, this had become her war, too. It was silly to think otherwise.

"What did you ask Olek to do for you today?"

She brushed her forehead with the heel of her palm. He didn't need more to make his point. Her former self would have been appalled at her actions.

"Let's just say that if someone tries to find Kepler's DNA or his tissue blocks and slides, he'll have a difficult time."

"You didn't destroy them—" His face suddenly turned dead serious.

"I've been a lousy employee these last three days. Do you know soccer, Dylan? Cassandra's brother who loves soccer has explained the trick but I forget the term if there's even one. I never understood offside—"

"—Just tell me you didn't do anything that would jeopardize Kepler's identity or draw attention to yourself—"

He had been honest before. Dylan did have a short temper. She could see it in the way his body tensed as he sat suddenly straighter but stiff like a coil ready to spring.

"—When a team is winning and the game is almost over, they want to stall. That means dragging their feet, pretending there are non-existent fouls and sometimes kicking the ball to the spectators—whatever it takes to gain a few seconds." Teasing Dylan's temper was a treat. More than that, it was the first time she had felt comfortable around him. She knew about temper, she knew about what it took to restrain oneself and for the first time Dylan was not a doctor or an arrogantly handsome man. He was more of a big brother you tease when he believes he knows everything. If that was how it felt to have a big brother it was fun. "After Kepler's latest …'achievement' with BDS' systems I ordered some checks so we'd avoid surprises during Phase II. That was a stalling technique I used until I figured out what to do with Raoul." She was certain he knew everything about Raoul and the way he'd treated her during Phase I. "Before I left I had Olek locate all the codes that had anything to do with Kepler, even remotely, all the while pretending I was just doing another check—" she moved her fingers as if something had disappeared into thin air. "They are there but they could be more easily located if they were in a maze."

As expected, Dylan sat back but his tension didn't lessen. It wasn't a switch to turn on and off at will. She knew that.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't commit crimes or become an accomplice while you're under my protection."

"Your protection?" she asked, incredulous. "That's the most chauvinistic thing I've ever heard!"

"On my watch, whatever." He sounded uncomfortable.

"Still the most chauvinistic thing I've heard—"

"Call it what you like even though it's not a matter of sex superiority—"

"Tyrannical, then!" She went on teasing, interrupting him, and his raised brow was the first indication he finally got it.

"I prefer tyrannical to chauvinistic," his features relaxed, "but Kepler asked me to keep an eye on you so—"

"Where did you go this morning? Who did you meet so dressed up?" she demanded in a quid pro quo exchange of information, avoiding any examination of how she felt about Kepler asking him to "keep an eye on her". Not surprisingly, Kepler's behavior didn't bother her so much.

"A friend managed to get me a meeting with a lawyer."

"A lawyer?"

"A very badass lawyer who deals with difficult cases. Filthy rich clients' difficult cases." He smiled at her curiosity. "Before Kepler left we had an understanding." The sharp intake of breath came from her. "Don't worry! Not about Kepler. I needed to know what happens if Kepler locates Spencer but he can't help him himself. I made him swear that he'd take no chances and if necessary he'd call the authorities to handle whatever it is, even if that means Spencer gets arrested. There are far worse outcomes than that. I needed to know our options in case that happens."

"Kepler promised you that?" Her voice betrayed her doubts.

"We are not gunmen, JC. Nor gangsters so he did promise me that. I wouldn't let him go alone otherwise—"

It was the first good news she'd had. If Kepler was serious about not taking risks…. She blinked, her dry eyes hurting her. Since Kepler had left she constantly felt on the verge of tears, yet also unable to let them spill. She could use a good cry—a private, good cry—but she wanted Kepler to be there, to keep her safe during her temporary insanity, her losing control. Kepler was not there so tears eluded her.
That meant she was strong, she looked strong. It also meant that only with him could she be completely herself, all the facets of her sane/crazy self and that made her feel mutilated, angry. Her orgasms were not as strong when he wasn't responsible for them, sex one of the few situations she allowed herself to be vulnerable, but only with him. When he was with her she could allow herself to live, to feel life at its fullest, at its loudest and most intense. Without him she lived but in the mute. How many years had she lived in the mute?

"What are you afraid of?" Dylan's voice shook her violently out of her thoughts. She wondered how he'd feel if she told him she was thinking about her orgasms with and without Kepler. The idea brought a tiny smile to her face but she still felt cold inside.

"Bad things happen in life…all the time. Freud would have blamed my childhood—" she tried to change the subject.

"Good things happen, too. Kepler for example—"

She narrowed her eyes at his words. Did he know what Kepler meant to her? Was it so evident?

"It's the first time you've acknowledged Kepler as a good thing in my life."

He shrugged at her challenge.

"You are part of the tribe now, or the freak show. Take your pick."

"Kepler didn't just happen. He made himself happen."

"That's why you forgave his lies? Because he's determined?"

Kepler was Kepler. She suppressed her immediate answer. How could Dylan understand an argument like that?

"People lie all the time," she said instead. "You're a doctor, you've seen it. Even when their lives depend on it they lie…out of shame, guilt, even pride. A lie is another facet of the truth. The antimatter of it. Kepler means well and no lie of his was meant to hurt me or disrespect me. Every one of his lies was uttered in order to protect me or himself. I respect that. I understand it. A man who loves me, who respects me, a man whom I love and admire? I can forgive that man almost anything…easily."

Once more it amazed her how easily she could talk about her love to Dylan. It was easier than talking about it to Kepler. Everything was more intense with Kepler. Even the same feelings took on a gravity she couldn't yet handle. Was it a sign of weakness? Was she afraid that he'd crush her? Suffocate her? She could have been with him now. If she had answered his question differently.

But she did love him. She had no doubts about it. Dylan had argued she couldn't love someone she didn't know. He was wrong. She had fallen for Kepler if only for the fragments of himself he had allowed her to see. Kepler's fragments were more than worthy of loving. All of them. After all, who truly knows the other?

"So, you're okay with what he does." Dylan's tone wasn't accusing. He was trying to understand.

"I said I'm in love. I'm not blind! But I understand his reasoning and his motives."

"Under a similar perspective why can't you forgive Cassandra? She meant well and she respects you even though what she did was disrespectful. She did it to protect you."

He had a point but unfortunately it didn't work that way. Kepler is Kepler. Once more she restrained herself from saying it out loud.

"You are persistent!" she said instead.

"Guilty as charged." He smiled, totally free of his previous tension.

Christine looked at him, wondering whether he was falling for Cassie. If he was, should she warn him? Was he even aware of it? Did Cassie know? The last thing Cassie'd need would be another Peter case. A persistent Peter case.

She kicked her shoes and curled her legs beneath her on the sofa. Kepler's absence made skirts obsolete. She rubbed her forehead again with her palm, too tired but too stressed to even think about sleep.

"Believe me, Dylan…things would be much easier if you were 'Dylan, the villain'." She nodded, smiling bitterly to herself, as she rested her elbow on the back of the sofa.

He snorted.

"I'm not the villain in this, but honest to God I can't count the times I've wished I had it in me. Not to be afraid to break some eggs. To be more drastic. In my previous life I was but now…this is out of my depth. I don't have what it takes. It seems almost against my nature—"

"This thing tests our weaknesses." She didn't know what "this thing" was but she surely felt tested.

"—That's why after getting angry I found it so entertaining to have you think of me as the mastermind behind all this, the double-agent capable of betraying everyone around him to serve his own evil agenda. I have a hunch I'd be happier if I could do just that without regret or remorse."

"Happier?"

"I guess…I hope criminals are not bothered by guilt and doubts. I doubt Gallagher is anyway."

"But don't you see? That's why this seems so…fishy."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"I don't claim I'm an expert on Gallagher but this doesn't seem his modus operandi. If what I heard of him is right, he doesn't play cat and mouse games. Okay, maybe I'm wrong…he plays games but not this kind of games…. He doesn't warn people. He acts. He sent the sex tape back which could be considered a game—"

"He meant to tear us apart. To teach Spencer a lesson."

"Yes, yes, exactly, but when he acted, when he framed Spencer, when he tried to kill Kepler during Phase I, he didn't warn you beforehand. When he strikes, he goes for the kill. That graft message sent to BDS sounds like a warning. I don't know…one who warns doesn't aim for the maximum harm, does he? He wants something else. Unless this is like the sex tape. Perhaps he wants to confuse things before the final strike but—" She stroked her nape, frustrated.

"Kepler said the men who attacked you in the alley could have caused more harm but they held back."

"More harm?" she almost squeaked. She still hadn't moved past the blood-thirst that attack and her worry for Kepler had awakened inside her.

"They had a gun. They could have used it."

"True," she whispered as images of that night flashed before her eyes no matter how hard she tried to push them away.

"So it's either Gallagher who wants to distract us using Spencer as a diversion or it's someone who's not as sick to the bone as Gallagher is. Hopefully. Or we're screwed."

"You said Kepler had pointed out that what happened in the alley was kind of strange. That means that he has thought about it. That he's prepared for it even though he followed that lead to the States—" she heard the panic in her voice. Dylan heard it, too, for he locked his eyes on hers, his warm stare surprisingly soothing to her suddenly quickened pulse, booming in her ears. Had Kepler willingly walked into a trap?
She forced herself to take a deep breath, to fight the familiar panic rising inside her. This time there would be no Kepler finding her in her old apartment.

"I'm certain Kepler has thought about that option." Empty words to calm her down? "But let's give it a thought. Let's make the assumption this is not Gallagher's doing and see where that takes us. Let's think as Kepler would. I'm sure he'd outsmart us but just for the sake of it—" Damn, he was good. Dylan repeating Kepler's name had a calming effect on her. Urging her to do something, to refocus on something more important than her fears worked. She let her hand fall on her lap, realizing she was biting her knuckle. "What do we know?" A deep frown appeared between his brows.

"Now that I think about it…that night, those men were more focused on Kepler than on me. What if they knew—if whoever hired them—knew that Radek and Kepler are the same person?"

"We assumed that whoever attacked you was trying to scare you, to send a message to Kepler in order to keep his distance from you, from BDS and Phase II. If he knew Kepler doesn't need Phase II anymore—" He shook his head.

"You're right. There's a contradiction there. He either knew Kepler is Radek or he wanted to warn him away from BDS."

"We are not looking at it from the right perspective. Let's go back to what we know." He stood, unable to hold himself still.

"You're not the patient, waiting type, are you?"

He turned to her, confused. Of course he wasn't. He was the one performing the surgeries, not the one waiting outside the operating room.

"What do we know for certain, JC?" His tone was demanding, anxious. He started pacing the room. "Who are we looking for?" There was a sudden urgency in his voice that unsettled her. "Someone who has access to Spencer, to his tattoo, his DNA—"

"Someone who has access to Kepler's blood. Fresh blood—" she added, watching him pace.

"Besides Reyes, myself and Kepler—"

She frowned when she heard him utter Kepler's name.

"Someone who knew your relationship with Kepler. What you mean to him—"

"Someone who wanted to drag Kepler to the States—"

"No, we don't know that. Let's focus on what we know. That is a choice Kepler made driven by everything—"

"But someone drove him to this choice."

"You're right. Whoever did this knew how Kepler thinks. He knew he'd search every option and eventually find that his own blood was on the graft. It was a warning and a threat. There's no point in sending a message if it's not going to be received." He stopped in his tracks but he wasn't looking at her. His face had paled and then got red, the veins in his neck visible as his lips became nothing but a thin line. Christine hadn't ever seen anyone having a stroke, but Dylan was the closest to it she'd ever come.

"Dylan?" she dared, moving to stand up from the sofa.

"That's why you thought of me." His stare managed to focus on her now. "But I'm not the only one fitting the criteria."

"Who then?" She was standing before him but he still wasn't looking at her. It was as if his eyes could not focus on one place.

"Spencer." He exhaled the name. "He did it. Again."

Christine dared to touch his clenched fist, locked by his side.

"Dylan, it can't be Spencer. I was bitchy enough to think of him but he doesn't have access to Kepler's blood. He'd need fresh blood or the use of a lab. It can't be. It can't be him," she repeated, eager to get through to him, show him a way out of his turmoil. He was clearly in agony.

"Bea," he spat the name.

"Mrs. Gardner? Why would she do it? She has no motive." She recalled Beatrice's lectures. When she had been in charge of Kepler's "charity", she had treated his wishes as holy rules to be obeyed. She was strict but loyal.

Dylan frowned at her, part-confused, part-incredulous. When he spoke, he uttered the words slowly, as if explaining something to a child.

"Bea had access to Kepler's blood. She had the opportunity. She changed his bandages the night you were attacked in the alley after he released himself from the hospital. I was looking for you. She had access to his bloodied clothes. After the hospital, before he found you. Hours before the package arrived at BDS. And Bea would do anything for Spencer. Anything. He's her son."