As soon as Jon saw what he was looking for, he zipped to the left, picking up the guy with his peripheral vision

As soon as Jon saw what he was looking for, he zipped to the left, picking up the guy with his peripheral vision. The guy was good, getting this far down the slope was proof of that, but Jon was willing to bet he'd never chased someone like him before. The guy was changing direction and following them down to the left accurately. Perfect.

Heather wanted to smack Jonathan when he zipped to the left, and was slowing down. He crossed a patch of snow, and then moved back to the right, cutting across the snow. They were slowing down! If they were going to go slower, they were never going to get away. Jonathan changed direction again, cutting the snow to the left, and then again whipping to the right. What the hell was he doing? This was all a straight patch of snow. If they could move that fast around rocks and trees, they should be able to nearly fly over pure snow. The guy chasing them hit the straight snow, and he knew what he was doing as he sailed down it fast.

In almost slow motion Heather saw the mercenary slowing down, pulling out a gun, the smile on his face triumphant. Jonathan had completed his crosscut moving further out to the right this time, turning, and…coming to a stop. For a heartbeat of time, they were face to face, and then a low rumble filled the air. Slow motion ceased, and the rest happened in the blink of an eye.

Jon had learned how to spot possible avalanche sites. The ski patrol had to know where they were, and they would set off the avalanche under controlled conditions. One way he's learned was to crosscut the snow, ending up at a safe place on the side of where the avalanche was flowing down. Now, he was on the side, and their pursuer was smack in the middle of the snow's path. The snow started to slide in one heavy plate, knocking the guy to the ground, and carrying him down the side of the mountain in a white flood.

"Whoa," Heather muttered, impressed. "You knew that was going to happen?"

"I know snow," came the slightly arrogant response. Jon was feeling rather proud of himself at that moment. Search and Rescue people had to be good, but how many could pull off a stunt like that while tandem skiing and being shot at. Damn few. He reached for the communicator still pinned to his shoulder. Contact, pickup, and then this was something he was going to have to tell everyone back in Park City about. Heather's hand clamped over his so that he couldn't key it. She wasn't that big, but she was really strong. He looked over his shoulder at her questioningly. What was her problem getting hold of help?

"They're probably monitoring communications," she explained.

"This is the ski patrol's frequency," he said, trying to placate her.

She rolled her eyes. "So?"

"So you can trust them to get us out of here and back to the lodge," he replied, sounding like he was talking to a young child. She shot him a rather disgusted look, like he was the imbecile, not her.

"Listen," she said, understanding now that despite everything, he really didn't know the danger she was in, and by association, the danger he was in. His parents probably never had to teach him evasion tactics as a child. "Right now in Colorado the only people I know I can trust are my parents, Uncle Cole, and Ms. Miller." She paused and a shy smile touched the edges of her mouth. "And I think I can trust you too."

Jon wasn't sure what to say to her for a second. She had obviously been through a lot in the last several hours. Maybe this wasn't her first time having someone try and kidnap her. Most girls that he knew would be in total hysterics by this point, screaming that he might have killed that guy in the avalanche. That thought did make him a little sick, but there hadn't been a choice in the matter anymore. Of course, Heather had killed someone for sure. She was acting so calm though, like today was just another day. Very strange.

"What about your uncle and Ms. Miller?" Jon asked her. "They might need help."

"Uncle Cole always lands on his feet," Heather said with a funny smile, the kind you had when mentioning an inside joke. "As long as Ms. Miller stays with him, they'll be fine. As a matter of fact, they'll probably beat us back to the lodge."

Jon wavered for a moment. They really should call for help. But, Heather really seemed to know what she was talking about. It was a little scary. Yesterday she had been bouncing around like the other girls that he knew. Now she was like ice, totally in command of herself, as if the other Heather was a façade and this was the real one that had been lurking beneath. She went from thinking about parties to strategy and tactics and ambushes and stuff like that. Where had she learned all this stuff? He really wanted answers now.

"If we're not going to call for help then we better get moving," Jon finally said. She looked relieved that he was going to listen. He pulled out the GPS, checked the map, and plotted the best route back to the lodge. They skied part of the way down the hill to a ridge and stopped.

"We have to walk this way for a while," he said, and unhooked himself from the skis. Cross-country tandem skiing was nearly impossible. Heather unsnapped herself and Jon picked up the skis. There was a button that was only active when the mag lock wasn't on. He hit it and the skis retracted small enough so that they fit into his backpack.

Heather looked impressed. "Those things do the dishes and flush too?"

Jon grinned. "My uncle is a big believer in having the best equipment at all times." He packed them and then faced her, his expression very serious. "Now I want to know who's after you and why and how did you kick ass on guys three times your size and oh, how did your uncle know to call me Jon?" He got that out in one breath.

"I'm young, rich and cute, and your name is Jonathan," she replied. He looked irritated at her answer and started walking off. Heather followed, not wanting him to be angry, but unsure how to possibly explain. She couldn't tell him the truth. She really liked him, and didn't want him to think she was some kind of freak. Heather suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Without telling him the truth, he was going to think that she was a freak no matter what. If he knew the reasons why…maybe he could understand? She had liked him because he was so much more mature than any other boy that she knew.

"Jonathan!" she called out. He paused and she trotted up to him. Heather put her hand on his arm, and he finally looked at her. "It's a really long story," she said hesitantly, making her decision. He was risking his life for her. The least she could do was tell him why. But where to begin?

"We have a really long walk," Jon said. He had a feeling he was finally going to get the truth out of her.

Heather nodded and took a deep breath. "I guess we should get started then," she said. Jon caught the double meaning to her words and they started walking. "I didn't know you liked to be called Jon," she said.

He shrugged and looked a little embarrassed. "Nobody calls me Jon," he replied. "It's sort of…um…what I call myself in my head. Like an alter-ego or something…always brave, and smart, and…" he looked really embarrassed now.

Heather smiled. "Mind if I call you Jon?" She had yet to know him when he wasn't acting brilliantly and bravely, and he had managed to save the damsel in distress. No wonder he had been shocked when Cole had called him Jon though. Cole had obviously picked up on his thoughts, and just started to call him Jon without realizing that was a mental tag.

Now Jon grinned for real. "That'd be okay," he answered, feeling his ego inflate.

They walked quietly for a second while Heather decided how to begin. "The people after me," she said hesitantly, "well, Ms. Miller said they were some mercenary group and I think they've want me because they've been contracted to get me and sell me to some other country or maybe someone wants me for their private collection. I really don't know for sure."

"Why you?" Jonathan, no it was Jon, asked. It was the million-dollar question, and the one she didn't want to answer. Heather's parents had taught her from infancy to always blend in and never reveal herself for what she really was. It wasn't fair she had to be so different. She knew her parents would be furious for what she was going to do now, but at some point you had to make decisions on your own.

"I'm not exactly normal," she replied. "I'm pretty much like regular people," she said quickly. "I'm just a little…different."

Jon could tell that she wasn't trying to be evasive now; this was just hard on her to explain. Without thinking about it, he had taken her hand in his. "You can't be too different," he said. "You look pretty normal to me, unless you have like twelve toes on one foot or something else weird that I can't see." She laughed. "I promise you," he continued, "no matter what you say, I'm not going to repeat it to anyone, no matter what. You did say you could trust me," he reminded her.

She smiled and then glanced down at their joined hands. Jon noticed it too, and blushed. He went to pull away, but her fingers tightened around his. She was going to need all the support she could get to tell him what he wanted to know.

"I guess to explain it all, you have to go back to the start," she said softly. This was not going to be easy, but she was going to do it. She wasn't sure of all of the details, but she knew enough. "The start was a long time before I was born and it was in a place in Wyoming. There was a military base in there in Gillette, and it was secretly the home of a government project known as Manticore."