Part 4
With a stifled scream and an outflung hand, Alex returned to consciousness to find herself holding
the wrist of a total stranger in a room she didn't recognize. Throwing the hand she held away from
her, she growled, "Get away from me," and tried to back away on the bed that she found herself
lying on.
The guy glanced over at something. Suddenly a pair of harried looking women were at her side, but
instead of helping, they held her down. Her arms were drawn up over her head by one while the other
sat on her ankles, holding her in place. She struggled all the harder, trying to ignore the pain
that shot through her head and abdomen. She tried to keep the moan inside, to keep her look blank,
but she failed and the guy caught it.
Lifting what was obviously a field triage kit, he showed it to her. "I'm just trying to examine
you, gauge the severity of your injuries, and you are only going to make it worse by fighting."
The man had no bedside manner; his tone was flat and uncaring.
"No thanks," Alex snapped. "I would rather--" Her next words were cut off as his hand whipped out
and grabbed her painfully by the jaw.
"You are wearing my patience thin. You will do as you are told and you will not say another word
unless I ask you a direct question." His tone hadn't changed in the least, but Alex caught the
look of fright on the face of the woman at her ankles. When she gave a tiny shake of her head, Alex
got the hint and stopped struggling.
"Better." He lifted up her shirt and got a look at the bruises visible over the top edge of her
jeans. She stifled the urge to fight as he unbuttoned the jeans and slid them down her hips to
examine her, then all the fight went out of her as he palpitated her abdomen. She couldn't stop the
groan of pain that escaped, but he apparently didn't consider this a punishable offense. He ignored
the tears that trickled unstoppably down her cheeks as he continued his examination. "Vomiting?" he
asked coldly.
"Yes." She bit off the word as he pressed down in another spot.
"Better or worse after I release the pressure?" He repeated the action in the same spot as before.
"Worse," she got out around a moan of pain, wondering just what the hell he was up to. His hands
moved then, checking her hips and then higher, running over her ribs front and back and then, much
to her disgust, over her breasts. Caressing them until she shuddered in reaction.
He got a sick smile across his face at her reaction and then, with a last caress, this one inside
the cup of her bra to tweak the nipple, he slid her shirt back down and pulled a pen light out of
the bag. She flinched in reaction to the light being shined in her eyes, but didn't complain this
time. She knew damn well she had a concussion and, from the chilled and achy feel to the rest of
her, was probably running a fever at this point. He proceeded to continue through the routine,
taking her blood pressure and temperature as well. When a syringe and vial appeared in his hands,
she started struggling again. "Antibiotics," he commented, even as he swiped a spot on her arm with
an alcohol wipe and injected it into her. "You're running a fever, probably due to internal
injuries. You have a concussion, which is helping to cause the nausea." He packed the items back
in his bag. "After I speak to Logan, I'll see about getting you some painkillers." He got to his
feet and, with a flick of his wrist, got the two women to release her.
Alex struggled to sit up, not liking feeling this defenseless, not liking the knowledge that she
was probably going to die here. Wherever here was. Not liking that she had failed to protect Fawkes
and get him off this mountain.
"Get her some food. Broth. Tepid. She may not keep it down. Lots of water. Oh, and get her cleaned
up. Logan is going to want to... talk with her later." The women nodded and then he turned and left
the room without a backward glance.
One of the women, a blonde in her early thirties, sat on the edge of the bed. "Which first, food or
getting cleaned up?"
"So I'm allowed to speak to you?" Alex sneered, ignoring the pain it caused.
The two women looked at each other, then the blonde refocused on Alex. "In here yes, but outside
this building or in the presence of the men, no. There are exceptions, but you don't know them so
you're better off not talking." She gave Alex a wan smile. "I'm not trying to be cruel, just want
you to be aware of your situation. They won't hesitate to punish you." At the defiant look in
Alex's eyes, she turned to the other woman. "Show her, Lily."
The woman the blonde had called Lily knelt down next to the bed and opened her mouth showing Alex
that her tongue had been cut in half at some point in time. The stub of muscle wouldn't allow
anything more than the most rudimentary of speech capabilities. "Why?" Alex asked, swallowing her
horror and disgust. "Why let them do this to you?"
Lily shrugged and them made arm motions suggesting she was holding a baby in her arms. The blonde
was nodding in agreement. "The children. We stayed for the children. Carrie got out, though." She
turned to Lily again. "Carrie made it out."
Alex nodded. Carrie Sutherland was the name of the woman that had started this whole stand-off.
"She made it to help. That's why we were coming here. To help get you out." She narrowed her eyes
looking at the women. "You can't possibly want to stay, can you?"
Both women shook their heads. "Not anymore. They, our husbands, are not the same people they were
before that final mission." She lowered her voice. "We, the six of us that were married, had been
told they'd been KIA. We even received posthumous medals for the work they'd done on their last
mission only to have them show up eighteen months later. Alive and on the run." She sighed. "What
we were supposed to do? We packed and left with them. We had no idea what had been done to them,
and by the time we knew it was too late. We had to protect the kids."
Alex nodded, unable to find any real fault in their decisions. She might very well have done the
same thing if she'd been in their position. "What changed?" Alex asked softly.
"When they started bringing in others -- those other men who simply liked the idea of controlling
woman and fighting the government -- things got worse. Some of the women here were brought in less
than willingly. Girlfriends of some, but a few were simply grabbed." She turned to Lily again. "We
didn't know what to do. When Logan and his team began training, indoctrinating some of the older
boys, we got scared and Carrie went after Logan over it. She didn't want their son becoming like
his father."
Alex held up her hand. "Wait. You're saying Carrie Sutherland is married to this Logan character?
And it's their son she was talking about?"
Lily nodded emphatically.
"Damn," Alex commented softly. Still she wasn't all that surprised the lengths a woman would go to
to save her child. "My partners. Short guy nearly bald, and a tall guy with more hair than he
needs."
Lily shook her head, but the blonde nodded. "I was on kitchen duty when the bald one was brought
in. He's in the cell across the way. He... he was fine, but Logan needs all of you for something.
He planned this out carefully." Lily set a hand on her arm to get her attention and, with a few
quick hand motions reminiscent of American Sign Language, she got her point across. "The pilot of
the plane you were on, where is he?"
Alex shook her head sadly. "He died in the crash." When she saw the look of sadness on both their
faces, she knew he had been one of them, part of this group here. "Who was he?"
"Ginny's husband. Not part of the original team, and still a pretty good guy by some miracle. Ginny
was going to tell him she was pregnant when he came back. Now we get to tell her he's dead," the
blonde explained in a soft voice. You could tell she was a military wife. That she knew what had to
be done and would know how to go about it the easiest way possible.
Alex didn't know what to do. He was one of the enemy in some ways, but these women were not.
"What's you're name?"
"Jane," she answered with a bit of a laugh. "Good old Plain Jane, that's me." Alex would never
have called this woman plain. Even a bit beaten down by her life recently, she was still a
beautiful woman. "I used to be married to that corpsman who examined you. Now I just hope to get
myself and my daughters out of here before they are to old to forget."
Alex made herself sit up a bit more then. "You will. Come hell or high water we'll -- I'll -- get
you and your children out of here. I promise you that."
Jane looked at Alex and realized she meant every word. Getting to her feet, she offered a hand out
to help Alex to her feet. "Lets get you cleaned up and see if you can hold some food down. You need
to get well to keep that promise."
With a groan Alex accepted the assistance gratefully and got to her feet.
Bobby was glowering out the window at Logan's back as he made his way across the compound. He'd
given them the rough outline of his intentions, ignoring Bobby's protests of not being able or
willing to help. He felt bad for the guys, but they had gone over the edge, ridden that golden
train right into nutsoville and needed to be stopped. Based on Bobby's experience, the only way
this was going to end was in bloodshed, and that just wasn't right all the way around. These guys
had gotten the short end of the stick and been betrayed by their very own government, but Bobby
could in no way condone or justify what they had done since then. It was one of those no-win
situations that was sure to get a lot of innocents hurt. It was Darien grunting in pain that drew
his attention back to the present.
Darien's hands were clutching the back of his head even as he tipped over on the mattress and
curled up. The tendons on his neck standing out as the convulsions and pain the gland was sending
out to him took momentary control of his body. He could feel Bobby's hands on his arm and back, his
voice speaking soothingly to him, but was not yet able to respond as a another shock of pain
overtook him.
"Easy, my friend." Bobby wished he could do something, anything to help him, but without the
counteragent, or perhaps a sedative, there was nothing he could do but watch and offer what little
assistance he could with his bare hands and voice.
As the pain eased and the muscles of his body finally relaxed, Darien simply closed his eyes and
whimpered. His knee was a screaming knot of agony, and his dual headache was cranked up a notch. He
could feel the tears running down his cheeks, but didn't care, didn't bother feeling embarrassed by
it. There was nothing either of them could do to prevent the inevitable deterioration of his
judgment, his sense of self. Soon he'd become a raving psychopath, and anything and everything in
his way was at risk. Friend or foe.
With Bobby's help he was able to roll onto his back and get back into a sitting position against
the wall of their prison. "Better?"
"No," Darien answered truthfully. He looked into the quietly patient eyes of his partner, his
friend. Glancing down at his wrist, he saw it was still at two green, but he knew that wouldn't
last for much longer. He was Stage Two already, and swiftly approaching Three. He could feel it.
"Bobby, if it gets bad, finish it. Take me out of the game. Please."
Bobby watched him carefully, knowing he wasn't kidding. "Fawkes, it won't come to that. No way."
Darien managed a pained chuckle. "I'm damn near there now, Hobbes. I want no part of making
Scarborough's predictions from all those months ago a reality." Didn't want to make that crackpot
of a psychic right. Didn't want to hurt Bobby. He reached out and grasped Bobby's hand, surprising
him. "Stage Four is less than a day away, and not long after that is Stage Five. I want no part of
it, Bobby. Promise me you'll end it."
Bobby was shocked at the desperation in Darien's voice, the pain and heartache evident in his eyes.
"All right, Fawkes. If there is no chance, I'll do it. I'll make sure it ends with you." He meant
every word. After watching what Fawkes dealt with, his surprising nobility at handling a situation
that should not have been placed on his or anyone's shoulders, it was the least he could do. To
ensure that no one ever went through it again. "I promise, Darien."
Darien shuddered with relief. "Thanks, Bobby."
"Partners, kid. And partners do for each other, remember that." Bobby watched as Darien relaxed
slightly, as much as the remaining fear and pain allowed him to.
Darien released his tight grip on Bobby's hand and asked, "How are you doing? Overdue for your meds
aren't you?"
"You know it, but in this situation being paranoid can only help and... I'll keep you and Monroe
safe, somehow." Bobby settled next to Darien, sitting on the floor next to the mattress. "I think
I'm gonna have to do what Logan says."
"Bobby, no. We can't give in to these guys. They're crazier than the two of us put together,"
Darien said, adamant.
Bobby shook his head. "I think I might be able to pass along a message or two while I do his dirty
work." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "I'm betting the Keep is with them by now, and the
FBI and ATF mooks aren't stupid. I may be able to relay more than enough info." He glanced out the
window, noting the still overcast skies. "Sats aren't gonna be able to lock onto this place till it
clears, and fly-overs will only be high altitude after our... accident."
Darien didn't know what to say. This was not his forte and he was pretty useless at the moment.
"Alex."
"Yeah, I'll try and get in to see Monroe. Make sure she's okay." He was thinking about one of the
comments Logan had made about her. "Do we still dislike her that much?"
Darien shook his head. "I'm not sure we ever did. We just never really got the chance to know her.
Her choice." He nudged Bobby with an elbow. "Took me a while to figure out you were something more
than an annoying little bald man playing baby-sitter for the 'Fish." He grinned and ducked his head.
Bobby snorted. "Annoying bald man, eh? Taught you everything you know, you lay-about punk."
"Everything I know about the spy biz maybe, but not everything I know," Darien shot back, the grin
turning into a real smile, then he sobered. "I may not like everything she's done or that attitude
she's copped, but I don't hate *her*. Make any sense at all?"
"Lots, Fawkes. It'll work out." He got to his feet and moved back to the window. "We need to get
through this first."
Alex was cautiously sipping at some lukewarm chicken broth after a quick bath when more visitors
arrived. Both Jane and Lily had stayed with her the entire time and Alex was oddly grateful. Thanks
to the beating she'd received this morning, she was in so much pain she could barely stand. One eye
was swollen shut and nearly half her face was taken up with the bruise from the crash. Jane had
carefully cleaned the wound and helped wash her hair, getting the blood and other debris out of it.
They supplied her with clean clothes similar to their own: loose fitting cotton slacks and a long
sleeved top. The fit was imperfect, but far more comfortable than the jeans she'd been wearing,
easing some of the discomfort. The seat belt had done one hell of a job on her, leaving a deep
purple bruise across her entire waistline, including her hip bones. Injuries on the job were
nothing new. She had a quite interesting collection of scars, but this was a first. To be taken out
by a bruise. Who knew coming to the Agency would be so much fun?
She also knew she needed to get to a real doctor, and soon.
The door to the room opened and the corpsman -- Jane's former husband -- and a stranger entered.
The new man took one look at the two women and they scuttled past him and out of the room without
once meeting his eyes. Alex resisted the urge to comment; instead, she carefully placed the mug
down on the nearby table and waited for whatever was to come next. There wasn't much else she could
do, and she wanted no part of having her tongue removed because she pissed off any of these men. So
she reined herself in. Kept the snarky and bitchy comments inside. Held her anger at what these men
had done back and bided her time. Information was what she needed and dealing with them was the only
way to get it.
"Agent Monroe, how are you feeling?" the stranger asked.
She debated letting the nausea the broth had caused win, on the off chance she'd get to vomit all
over this smug bastard, but she resisted, knowing she'd need the energy it provided to survive a
bit longer. "Crappy."
He nodded, as if pleased she'd kept it simple. "We're working on some arrangements that should get
you the help you need. I'm afraid it's the one thing we lack as of yet. Medical facilities."
Alex said nothing, not daring to push her luck. It was just another role to play, another mission
where she was both more and less than herself. And she was pretty sure both Jane and Lily would
tell her all she wanted to know.
"How's the pain? Nausea?" The corpsman moved to her side and opened the kit pulling out syringes
and vials again. He unceremoniously stuck a thermometer in her mouth before she could answer. When
he removed it, he gave her not one clue as to what it said, but she was betting not good.
"Nauseous and I hurt," Alex said softly and concisely to answer his questions. He nodded.
"I'm going to give you a mild painkiller and an anti-emetic for the nausea. Once that has taken
effect, I want you to take the Tylenol I'm going to leave you to reduce the fever." He looked her
in the eye. "This is a short term solution only. If you do not get to a hospital within twenty-four
hours, you will probably die."
"So get me to one," Alex snapped out without thinking of the
consequences.
When it looked like the corpsman was going to hit her, the stranger put a hand on his shoulder,
calming him instantly. "We are attempting that now, but your co-workers are being less than
cooperative in the matter."
"Threats. Why am I not surprised?" Alex paled as the doctor stabbed her less than gently with the
first needle. It took mere seconds for her to know it was the painkiller, morphine from the feel of
it. She knew the pain was still there, but it swiftly faded to the background. The second needle,
though just as un-gently stuck into her, was no more than a minor irritation thanks to the drug now
in her.
"Agent Monroe, it is not intended as a threat. It is a reality. You and your partners have one
purpose -- to get me what I want -- and no more. I prefer to have you alive at the end, but it
doesn't really matter." He turned to the corpsman, who left three pills on the table and then left
the room. "I suggest you convince Agent Hobbes to cooperate fully, or Agent Fawkes will be needing a
far more than a little surgery to fix his knee. He'll be needing an entire new leg."
"Like I said, 'threats'." Alex's head swam, but she was able to keep herself coherent. "Ever heard
of just asking?"
He actually laughed. "Just talk to him. Use that skill at persuasion I've heard so much about, and
convince him."
Alex wanted to know just how this guy knew anything about her, but didn't ask, somehow knowing she
was pushing her luck with the commentary she had already made. "Who are you?" she asked very softly
hoping it wouldn't antagonize him.
"Logan," he answered getting to his feet. "You have ten minutes to convince him."
Logan Sutherland. Alex was somehow not surprised. This man was the one in control around here. This
was the man who was going to bring a war down on this place, and he wanted her to convince Hobbes to
help him do.... something. All their lives hung in the balance. She knew how ill she was, knew
Fawkes was going to need help. No matter what anyone else might think of her, she would do her
damnedest to protect him, to get him and that stupid gland off this mountain intact, for his sake
if no one else's. That line of thought made her realize that Fawkes was probably running out of
time where the gland was concerned. She would never get used to him when quicksilver mad, but after
the first time she had successfully hidden her reactions. She had truly felt bad for beating the
crap out of him that first time, but there had been few choices. Dragging him into a lip lock to
distract him had not been a viable option.
Alex grinned for a moment, wondering what kissing Darien might be like, quicksilver mad or not.
Then she shook her head, angry at herself for even considering such a thing, and logging the sudden
fantasy off to the drugs she'd been given. Hopefully they wouldn't decide to interrogate her; she
was betting that she'd tell them just about anything they wanted right now, and that was so not a
good thing. She had herself back under control when Hobbes was finally escorted in.
Hobbes moved to her side and sat on the bed. "How ya doing, Monroe?"
"Morphine," she told him, to explain.
Hobbes smiled and shook his head. "Feeling no pain, anyway. Try not to talk okay?" Alex nodded in
agreement. "Logan have a chat with you?"
"Yes, lots of threats, no reasons. Wants me to convince you to help." Alex shifted, sitting up a
bit more and lowering her voice. "Don't do it unless it's the only way to save Fawkes."
"What about you, Monroe?" Hobbes asked in all seriousness.
"Expendable." She met his eyes. "I trust you, Hobbes. Get Fawkes off this mountain. Save the women
and kids here, but don't worry about me. My five-star-A ass can handle herself." If nothing else,
she wanted those two things accomplished. "Hobbes..."
"Yeah, Monroe. I'll see to it." Bobby was starting to wonder why everything was getting dumped on
his shoulders, when he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to hold it together himself. Seeing
her battered and drugged was almost enough to make him go into full mother-hen mode. He couldn't
help it. You were supposed to defend and protect women, not hurt them like this.
Alex caught on to what he was thinking. "Not me, Hobbes. Them. Get them out of this place."
Bobby snapped back to himself. "Got it, Monroe. Here's what this Logan character is looking for."
He went on to detail the little he knew about these people and why they were here. What they wanted
was their lives back, but Bobby had no idea how to get that for them. Whatever had been done to them
might not be repairable even with current deprogramming techniques. He had no way to know. He told
Alex of his plan to pass on info about her and Fawkes' condition, as well as the sit-rep here,
while handing of the demands of the captors. He was hoping to set up a rescue attempt of some sort,
but doing that without injuries might not be possible. Alex knew this as well, but they had to try.
She agreed with his plan and could only hope the subtle code phrases he was going to pass along
would be understood by those at the other end.
Then they turned to the subject of Darien.
"How close is he?" Alex was barely whispering.
"Almost three. A day or less." Hobbes answered, leaning in close. He set a hand on the side of her
face and hissed quietly at the heat radiating off of her. "Damn, Monroe, you're burning up."
Alex remembered the pills then and, with Bobby's help, got them down with a swallow of water.
Realizing she was thirsty, she drank the rest quickly, thankful the anti-emetic was working and had
all but erased the nausea. "I'll be fine, Bobby," she lied perfectly. "They checked me over and said
it was no big deal. We have more important things to worry about anyway."
Bobby nodded reluctantly.
Logan entered the room then. "Decision time."
"I'll do it, but my way." Hobbes answered watching Monroe. "She is to remain untouched."
Logan narrowed his eyes. "Agreed. For now. I expect a response in twelve hours, though. You will
make sure they understand that."
"Yeah, I'll be sure to." Bobby knew twelve hours was all Fawkes or Monroe had before something
irrevocable happened to either of them. "Alex, don't let them...."
"Go, Bobby," Alex said, not wanting him to give away more than he should. She knew he was way off
his meds and was hoping to keep his focus where it needed to be. Fawkes and the women and kids
trapped here. If they were saved, her conscience would be clear, even if she didn't make it
herself. She might not have been able to save her son, but maybe she could save these others.
"All right. Lead the way Logan. We have a call to make."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With a stifled scream and an outflung hand, Alex returned to consciousness to find herself holding
the wrist of a total stranger in a room she didn't recognize. Throwing the hand she held away from
her, she growled, "Get away from me," and tried to back away on the bed that she found herself
lying on.
The guy glanced over at something. Suddenly a pair of harried looking women were at her side, but
instead of helping, they held her down. Her arms were drawn up over her head by one while the other
sat on her ankles, holding her in place. She struggled all the harder, trying to ignore the pain
that shot through her head and abdomen. She tried to keep the moan inside, to keep her look blank,
but she failed and the guy caught it.
Lifting what was obviously a field triage kit, he showed it to her. "I'm just trying to examine
you, gauge the severity of your injuries, and you are only going to make it worse by fighting."
The man had no bedside manner; his tone was flat and uncaring.
"No thanks," Alex snapped. "I would rather--" Her next words were cut off as his hand whipped out
and grabbed her painfully by the jaw.
"You are wearing my patience thin. You will do as you are told and you will not say another word
unless I ask you a direct question." His tone hadn't changed in the least, but Alex caught the
look of fright on the face of the woman at her ankles. When she gave a tiny shake of her head, Alex
got the hint and stopped struggling.
"Better." He lifted up her shirt and got a look at the bruises visible over the top edge of her
jeans. She stifled the urge to fight as he unbuttoned the jeans and slid them down her hips to
examine her, then all the fight went out of her as he palpitated her abdomen. She couldn't stop the
groan of pain that escaped, but he apparently didn't consider this a punishable offense. He ignored
the tears that trickled unstoppably down her cheeks as he continued his examination. "Vomiting?" he
asked coldly.
"Yes." She bit off the word as he pressed down in another spot.
"Better or worse after I release the pressure?" He repeated the action in the same spot as before.
"Worse," she got out around a moan of pain, wondering just what the hell he was up to. His hands
moved then, checking her hips and then higher, running over her ribs front and back and then, much
to her disgust, over her breasts. Caressing them until she shuddered in reaction.
He got a sick smile across his face at her reaction and then, with a last caress, this one inside
the cup of her bra to tweak the nipple, he slid her shirt back down and pulled a pen light out of
the bag. She flinched in reaction to the light being shined in her eyes, but didn't complain this
time. She knew damn well she had a concussion and, from the chilled and achy feel to the rest of
her, was probably running a fever at this point. He proceeded to continue through the routine,
taking her blood pressure and temperature as well. When a syringe and vial appeared in his hands,
she started struggling again. "Antibiotics," he commented, even as he swiped a spot on her arm with
an alcohol wipe and injected it into her. "You're running a fever, probably due to internal
injuries. You have a concussion, which is helping to cause the nausea." He packed the items back
in his bag. "After I speak to Logan, I'll see about getting you some painkillers." He got to his
feet and, with a flick of his wrist, got the two women to release her.
Alex struggled to sit up, not liking feeling this defenseless, not liking the knowledge that she
was probably going to die here. Wherever here was. Not liking that she had failed to protect Fawkes
and get him off this mountain.
"Get her some food. Broth. Tepid. She may not keep it down. Lots of water. Oh, and get her cleaned
up. Logan is going to want to... talk with her later." The women nodded and then he turned and left
the room without a backward glance.
One of the women, a blonde in her early thirties, sat on the edge of the bed. "Which first, food or
getting cleaned up?"
"So I'm allowed to speak to you?" Alex sneered, ignoring the pain it caused.
The two women looked at each other, then the blonde refocused on Alex. "In here yes, but outside
this building or in the presence of the men, no. There are exceptions, but you don't know them so
you're better off not talking." She gave Alex a wan smile. "I'm not trying to be cruel, just want
you to be aware of your situation. They won't hesitate to punish you." At the defiant look in
Alex's eyes, she turned to the other woman. "Show her, Lily."
The woman the blonde had called Lily knelt down next to the bed and opened her mouth showing Alex
that her tongue had been cut in half at some point in time. The stub of muscle wouldn't allow
anything more than the most rudimentary of speech capabilities. "Why?" Alex asked, swallowing her
horror and disgust. "Why let them do this to you?"
Lily shrugged and them made arm motions suggesting she was holding a baby in her arms. The blonde
was nodding in agreement. "The children. We stayed for the children. Carrie got out, though." She
turned to Lily again. "Carrie made it out."
Alex nodded. Carrie Sutherland was the name of the woman that had started this whole stand-off.
"She made it to help. That's why we were coming here. To help get you out." She narrowed her eyes
looking at the women. "You can't possibly want to stay, can you?"
Both women shook their heads. "Not anymore. They, our husbands, are not the same people they were
before that final mission." She lowered her voice. "We, the six of us that were married, had been
told they'd been KIA. We even received posthumous medals for the work they'd done on their last
mission only to have them show up eighteen months later. Alive and on the run." She sighed. "What
we were supposed to do? We packed and left with them. We had no idea what had been done to them,
and by the time we knew it was too late. We had to protect the kids."
Alex nodded, unable to find any real fault in their decisions. She might very well have done the
same thing if she'd been in their position. "What changed?" Alex asked softly.
"When they started bringing in others -- those other men who simply liked the idea of controlling
woman and fighting the government -- things got worse. Some of the women here were brought in less
than willingly. Girlfriends of some, but a few were simply grabbed." She turned to Lily again. "We
didn't know what to do. When Logan and his team began training, indoctrinating some of the older
boys, we got scared and Carrie went after Logan over it. She didn't want their son becoming like
his father."
Alex held up her hand. "Wait. You're saying Carrie Sutherland is married to this Logan character?
And it's their son she was talking about?"
Lily nodded emphatically.
"Damn," Alex commented softly. Still she wasn't all that surprised the lengths a woman would go to
to save her child. "My partners. Short guy nearly bald, and a tall guy with more hair than he
needs."
Lily shook her head, but the blonde nodded. "I was on kitchen duty when the bald one was brought
in. He's in the cell across the way. He... he was fine, but Logan needs all of you for something.
He planned this out carefully." Lily set a hand on her arm to get her attention and, with a few
quick hand motions reminiscent of American Sign Language, she got her point across. "The pilot of
the plane you were on, where is he?"
Alex shook her head sadly. "He died in the crash." When she saw the look of sadness on both their
faces, she knew he had been one of them, part of this group here. "Who was he?"
"Ginny's husband. Not part of the original team, and still a pretty good guy by some miracle. Ginny
was going to tell him she was pregnant when he came back. Now we get to tell her he's dead," the
blonde explained in a soft voice. You could tell she was a military wife. That she knew what had to
be done and would know how to go about it the easiest way possible.
Alex didn't know what to do. He was one of the enemy in some ways, but these women were not.
"What's you're name?"
"Jane," she answered with a bit of a laugh. "Good old Plain Jane, that's me." Alex would never
have called this woman plain. Even a bit beaten down by her life recently, she was still a
beautiful woman. "I used to be married to that corpsman who examined you. Now I just hope to get
myself and my daughters out of here before they are to old to forget."
Alex made herself sit up a bit more then. "You will. Come hell or high water we'll -- I'll -- get
you and your children out of here. I promise you that."
Jane looked at Alex and realized she meant every word. Getting to her feet, she offered a hand out
to help Alex to her feet. "Lets get you cleaned up and see if you can hold some food down. You need
to get well to keep that promise."
With a groan Alex accepted the assistance gratefully and got to her feet.
Bobby was glowering out the window at Logan's back as he made his way across the compound. He'd
given them the rough outline of his intentions, ignoring Bobby's protests of not being able or
willing to help. He felt bad for the guys, but they had gone over the edge, ridden that golden
train right into nutsoville and needed to be stopped. Based on Bobby's experience, the only way
this was going to end was in bloodshed, and that just wasn't right all the way around. These guys
had gotten the short end of the stick and been betrayed by their very own government, but Bobby
could in no way condone or justify what they had done since then. It was one of those no-win
situations that was sure to get a lot of innocents hurt. It was Darien grunting in pain that drew
his attention back to the present.
Darien's hands were clutching the back of his head even as he tipped over on the mattress and
curled up. The tendons on his neck standing out as the convulsions and pain the gland was sending
out to him took momentary control of his body. He could feel Bobby's hands on his arm and back, his
voice speaking soothingly to him, but was not yet able to respond as a another shock of pain
overtook him.
"Easy, my friend." Bobby wished he could do something, anything to help him, but without the
counteragent, or perhaps a sedative, there was nothing he could do but watch and offer what little
assistance he could with his bare hands and voice.
As the pain eased and the muscles of his body finally relaxed, Darien simply closed his eyes and
whimpered. His knee was a screaming knot of agony, and his dual headache was cranked up a notch. He
could feel the tears running down his cheeks, but didn't care, didn't bother feeling embarrassed by
it. There was nothing either of them could do to prevent the inevitable deterioration of his
judgment, his sense of self. Soon he'd become a raving psychopath, and anything and everything in
his way was at risk. Friend or foe.
With Bobby's help he was able to roll onto his back and get back into a sitting position against
the wall of their prison. "Better?"
"No," Darien answered truthfully. He looked into the quietly patient eyes of his partner, his
friend. Glancing down at his wrist, he saw it was still at two green, but he knew that wouldn't
last for much longer. He was Stage Two already, and swiftly approaching Three. He could feel it.
"Bobby, if it gets bad, finish it. Take me out of the game. Please."
Bobby watched him carefully, knowing he wasn't kidding. "Fawkes, it won't come to that. No way."
Darien managed a pained chuckle. "I'm damn near there now, Hobbes. I want no part of making
Scarborough's predictions from all those months ago a reality." Didn't want to make that crackpot
of a psychic right. Didn't want to hurt Bobby. He reached out and grasped Bobby's hand, surprising
him. "Stage Four is less than a day away, and not long after that is Stage Five. I want no part of
it, Bobby. Promise me you'll end it."
Bobby was shocked at the desperation in Darien's voice, the pain and heartache evident in his eyes.
"All right, Fawkes. If there is no chance, I'll do it. I'll make sure it ends with you." He meant
every word. After watching what Fawkes dealt with, his surprising nobility at handling a situation
that should not have been placed on his or anyone's shoulders, it was the least he could do. To
ensure that no one ever went through it again. "I promise, Darien."
Darien shuddered with relief. "Thanks, Bobby."
"Partners, kid. And partners do for each other, remember that." Bobby watched as Darien relaxed
slightly, as much as the remaining fear and pain allowed him to.
Darien released his tight grip on Bobby's hand and asked, "How are you doing? Overdue for your meds
aren't you?"
"You know it, but in this situation being paranoid can only help and... I'll keep you and Monroe
safe, somehow." Bobby settled next to Darien, sitting on the floor next to the mattress. "I think
I'm gonna have to do what Logan says."
"Bobby, no. We can't give in to these guys. They're crazier than the two of us put together,"
Darien said, adamant.
Bobby shook his head. "I think I might be able to pass along a message or two while I do his dirty
work." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "I'm betting the Keep is with them by now, and the
FBI and ATF mooks aren't stupid. I may be able to relay more than enough info." He glanced out the
window, noting the still overcast skies. "Sats aren't gonna be able to lock onto this place till it
clears, and fly-overs will only be high altitude after our... accident."
Darien didn't know what to say. This was not his forte and he was pretty useless at the moment.
"Alex."
"Yeah, I'll try and get in to see Monroe. Make sure she's okay." He was thinking about one of the
comments Logan had made about her. "Do we still dislike her that much?"
Darien shook his head. "I'm not sure we ever did. We just never really got the chance to know her.
Her choice." He nudged Bobby with an elbow. "Took me a while to figure out you were something more
than an annoying little bald man playing baby-sitter for the 'Fish." He grinned and ducked his head.
Bobby snorted. "Annoying bald man, eh? Taught you everything you know, you lay-about punk."
"Everything I know about the spy biz maybe, but not everything I know," Darien shot back, the grin
turning into a real smile, then he sobered. "I may not like everything she's done or that attitude
she's copped, but I don't hate *her*. Make any sense at all?"
"Lots, Fawkes. It'll work out." He got to his feet and moved back to the window. "We need to get
through this first."
Alex was cautiously sipping at some lukewarm chicken broth after a quick bath when more visitors
arrived. Both Jane and Lily had stayed with her the entire time and Alex was oddly grateful. Thanks
to the beating she'd received this morning, she was in so much pain she could barely stand. One eye
was swollen shut and nearly half her face was taken up with the bruise from the crash. Jane had
carefully cleaned the wound and helped wash her hair, getting the blood and other debris out of it.
They supplied her with clean clothes similar to their own: loose fitting cotton slacks and a long
sleeved top. The fit was imperfect, but far more comfortable than the jeans she'd been wearing,
easing some of the discomfort. The seat belt had done one hell of a job on her, leaving a deep
purple bruise across her entire waistline, including her hip bones. Injuries on the job were
nothing new. She had a quite interesting collection of scars, but this was a first. To be taken out
by a bruise. Who knew coming to the Agency would be so much fun?
She also knew she needed to get to a real doctor, and soon.
The door to the room opened and the corpsman -- Jane's former husband -- and a stranger entered.
The new man took one look at the two women and they scuttled past him and out of the room without
once meeting his eyes. Alex resisted the urge to comment; instead, she carefully placed the mug
down on the nearby table and waited for whatever was to come next. There wasn't much else she could
do, and she wanted no part of having her tongue removed because she pissed off any of these men. So
she reined herself in. Kept the snarky and bitchy comments inside. Held her anger at what these men
had done back and bided her time. Information was what she needed and dealing with them was the only
way to get it.
"Agent Monroe, how are you feeling?" the stranger asked.
She debated letting the nausea the broth had caused win, on the off chance she'd get to vomit all
over this smug bastard, but she resisted, knowing she'd need the energy it provided to survive a
bit longer. "Crappy."
He nodded, as if pleased she'd kept it simple. "We're working on some arrangements that should get
you the help you need. I'm afraid it's the one thing we lack as of yet. Medical facilities."
Alex said nothing, not daring to push her luck. It was just another role to play, another mission
where she was both more and less than herself. And she was pretty sure both Jane and Lily would
tell her all she wanted to know.
"How's the pain? Nausea?" The corpsman moved to her side and opened the kit pulling out syringes
and vials again. He unceremoniously stuck a thermometer in her mouth before she could answer. When
he removed it, he gave her not one clue as to what it said, but she was betting not good.
"Nauseous and I hurt," Alex said softly and concisely to answer his questions. He nodded.
"I'm going to give you a mild painkiller and an anti-emetic for the nausea. Once that has taken
effect, I want you to take the Tylenol I'm going to leave you to reduce the fever." He looked her
in the eye. "This is a short term solution only. If you do not get to a hospital within twenty-four
hours, you will probably die."
"So get me to one," Alex snapped out without thinking of the
consequences.
When it looked like the corpsman was going to hit her, the stranger put a hand on his shoulder,
calming him instantly. "We are attempting that now, but your co-workers are being less than
cooperative in the matter."
"Threats. Why am I not surprised?" Alex paled as the doctor stabbed her less than gently with the
first needle. It took mere seconds for her to know it was the painkiller, morphine from the feel of
it. She knew the pain was still there, but it swiftly faded to the background. The second needle,
though just as un-gently stuck into her, was no more than a minor irritation thanks to the drug now
in her.
"Agent Monroe, it is not intended as a threat. It is a reality. You and your partners have one
purpose -- to get me what I want -- and no more. I prefer to have you alive at the end, but it
doesn't really matter." He turned to the corpsman, who left three pills on the table and then left
the room. "I suggest you convince Agent Hobbes to cooperate fully, or Agent Fawkes will be needing a
far more than a little surgery to fix his knee. He'll be needing an entire new leg."
"Like I said, 'threats'." Alex's head swam, but she was able to keep herself coherent. "Ever heard
of just asking?"
He actually laughed. "Just talk to him. Use that skill at persuasion I've heard so much about, and
convince him."
Alex wanted to know just how this guy knew anything about her, but didn't ask, somehow knowing she
was pushing her luck with the commentary she had already made. "Who are you?" she asked very softly
hoping it wouldn't antagonize him.
"Logan," he answered getting to his feet. "You have ten minutes to convince him."
Logan Sutherland. Alex was somehow not surprised. This man was the one in control around here. This
was the man who was going to bring a war down on this place, and he wanted her to convince Hobbes to
help him do.... something. All their lives hung in the balance. She knew how ill she was, knew
Fawkes was going to need help. No matter what anyone else might think of her, she would do her
damnedest to protect him, to get him and that stupid gland off this mountain intact, for his sake
if no one else's. That line of thought made her realize that Fawkes was probably running out of
time where the gland was concerned. She would never get used to him when quicksilver mad, but after
the first time she had successfully hidden her reactions. She had truly felt bad for beating the
crap out of him that first time, but there had been few choices. Dragging him into a lip lock to
distract him had not been a viable option.
Alex grinned for a moment, wondering what kissing Darien might be like, quicksilver mad or not.
Then she shook her head, angry at herself for even considering such a thing, and logging the sudden
fantasy off to the drugs she'd been given. Hopefully they wouldn't decide to interrogate her; she
was betting that she'd tell them just about anything they wanted right now, and that was so not a
good thing. She had herself back under control when Hobbes was finally escorted in.
Hobbes moved to her side and sat on the bed. "How ya doing, Monroe?"
"Morphine," she told him, to explain.
Hobbes smiled and shook his head. "Feeling no pain, anyway. Try not to talk okay?" Alex nodded in
agreement. "Logan have a chat with you?"
"Yes, lots of threats, no reasons. Wants me to convince you to help." Alex shifted, sitting up a
bit more and lowering her voice. "Don't do it unless it's the only way to save Fawkes."
"What about you, Monroe?" Hobbes asked in all seriousness.
"Expendable." She met his eyes. "I trust you, Hobbes. Get Fawkes off this mountain. Save the women
and kids here, but don't worry about me. My five-star-A ass can handle herself." If nothing else,
she wanted those two things accomplished. "Hobbes..."
"Yeah, Monroe. I'll see to it." Bobby was starting to wonder why everything was getting dumped on
his shoulders, when he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to hold it together himself. Seeing
her battered and drugged was almost enough to make him go into full mother-hen mode. He couldn't
help it. You were supposed to defend and protect women, not hurt them like this.
Alex caught on to what he was thinking. "Not me, Hobbes. Them. Get them out of this place."
Bobby snapped back to himself. "Got it, Monroe. Here's what this Logan character is looking for."
He went on to detail the little he knew about these people and why they were here. What they wanted
was their lives back, but Bobby had no idea how to get that for them. Whatever had been done to them
might not be repairable even with current deprogramming techniques. He had no way to know. He told
Alex of his plan to pass on info about her and Fawkes' condition, as well as the sit-rep here,
while handing of the demands of the captors. He was hoping to set up a rescue attempt of some sort,
but doing that without injuries might not be possible. Alex knew this as well, but they had to try.
She agreed with his plan and could only hope the subtle code phrases he was going to pass along
would be understood by those at the other end.
Then they turned to the subject of Darien.
"How close is he?" Alex was barely whispering.
"Almost three. A day or less." Hobbes answered, leaning in close. He set a hand on the side of her
face and hissed quietly at the heat radiating off of her. "Damn, Monroe, you're burning up."
Alex remembered the pills then and, with Bobby's help, got them down with a swallow of water.
Realizing she was thirsty, she drank the rest quickly, thankful the anti-emetic was working and had
all but erased the nausea. "I'll be fine, Bobby," she lied perfectly. "They checked me over and said
it was no big deal. We have more important things to worry about anyway."
Bobby nodded reluctantly.
Logan entered the room then. "Decision time."
"I'll do it, but my way." Hobbes answered watching Monroe. "She is to remain untouched."
Logan narrowed his eyes. "Agreed. For now. I expect a response in twelve hours, though. You will
make sure they understand that."
"Yeah, I'll be sure to." Bobby knew twelve hours was all Fawkes or Monroe had before something
irrevocable happened to either of them. "Alex, don't let them...."
"Go, Bobby," Alex said, not wanting him to give away more than he should. She knew he was way off
his meds and was hoping to keep his focus where it needed to be. Fawkes and the women and kids
trapped here. If they were saved, her conscience would be clear, even if she didn't make it
herself. She might not have been able to save her son, but maybe she could save these others.
"All right. Lead the way Logan. We have a call to make."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
