Mark downloaded the pertinent portion of the recording onto a cube that he had appropriated. The technician in the room, obviously bored, had been watching him as he tried to determine what had gotten Anne so upset.

"Fun stuff, huh?" he said jokingly. "All the fun and drama of a play, and you don't even have to pay for it. Listen to them long enough and you'll almost think they're human."

Mark glared at him. "They are." Moron, his tone implied. "That's really the entire problem." The technician paled under the weight of his ire. Mark turned and stalked out of the room, feeling slightly guilty within a few steps. It wasn't the tech's fault he was in a bad mood, but this whole situation left a sour taste in his mouth.

Anne didn't deserve this. She shouldn't love a creature like Millions, a killer, a cruel, heartless being. She deserved someone who would love her, cherish her, never hurt her. A slight twist afflicted his lips when he realized that he no longer belonged on that list. He bounced the cube on his palm as he strode through the corridors, pausing only to open the door to the outside.

He stood for a moment on the threshold, not entirely sure that what he planned to do was the right course of action. The still crisp air of the morning was beginning to give way to mid-morning languor, and he looked out over the nearly empty plaza with a frown, looking fruitlessly for an answer. Nothing here was going to tell him what to do. He glanced down at the cube, the simple gray square no help in his decision, either.

With a sigh, he stepped forward. The way to Anne's apartment was well known, with nothing new or exciting to distract him from the doubts that plagued him. Each step was an affirmation of a thought that he wasn't sure he agreed with, each pace brought him closer to a goal he didn't think he ever wanted to reach. And after too few minutes he found himself at Anne's building.

Years ago, Anne had given him and Effie keys to her place. He used his now to enter the front door. Faced with the stairs, he paused. He didn't want to do what was coming next, didn't want to climb those last few flights, didn't want to… He sighed again, then started up the stairs. He'd feel a fool if he backed down now.

He didn't let himself pause at the top of the stairs, but walked as swiftly as he could make himself move to the door to Anne's apartment. With an audible swallow, he knocked on the door.

Alex answered. "Hello, Mark," he said politely. "Are you here to pick up your things?"

"Where's Millions?" Mark replied, then winced at how abrupt he sounded. "I have some things I need to say to him," he amended, then wondered if that had helped at all.

Alex didn't seem particularly perturbed, merely nodding and asking if he wanted to come in. Mark shook his head, and so stood in the hall while Knives was fetched.

And all too soon answered the door. The cold blue eyes appraised him for a moment, and Mark felt himself begin to sweat. "What do you want?" he asked mildly, the tone still managing to found faintly menacing.

Mark responded to his discomfort by glaring. "We need to talk. In private." He turned and walked back to the stairs, hoping that Knives was following because he would look a right fool if he wasn't. He heard the door close softly behind him, but didn't turn to look. His only clue that he was being followed was the squeak of a stair as they climbed to the roof. A bit of tension eased from his shoulders at that point, but enough remained that he was still very uncomfortable.

They walked out onto the roof, Mark crossing the width of it to rest his elbows on the low wall that edged it. He stared out over the city for a few moments as he tried to find the right words to say.

"What do you want?" asked Knives again, this time with a bit more heat, the menace less guarded.

Mark fished in his pocket and drew out the cube. He set it next to his elbow, then went back to contemplating the skyline. Knives moved up next to him and took it, holding it gently between the first two fingers of his right hand.

"Am I supposed to be impressed by this?" he asked calmly, and Mark turned to glare at him.

"You're supposed to listen to what's on it."

"Ah." Knives smiled a little. "Is this where you try to defend Anne, to say that Ace was wrong, that Anne didn't threaten to kill her?" His voice stayed calm. "Or am I supposed to be shocked to learn that you people have been spying on us?"

Mark's face betrayed the surprise he felt, but he stayed quiet. Knives looked at the cube again, then accessed the recording. Ace's voice rang out clear in the air between them. After the first few phrases, Knives hand began to shake, and before the recording was finished he had rested the cube on his palm, hand no longer steady enough to just hold it. Once the last vile sentence had been uttered, Knives closed his hand around the cube gently, and stepped forward to unintentionally mirror Mark's pose.

Mark watched his face intently, noted the tightening around the eyes, the flaring of the nostrils, the way the pale face lost what color it had. The arrogant bearing was lost under the weight of betrayal.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was happening. The bastard he hated, the monster he loathed was turning into a man betrayed right before his eyes. He didn't want that, didn't want to know that this cool, calm thing might actually be a human in disguise. To fight that feeling, his next words came out colder than they might.

"I didn't do this for you; I could care less if you're sleeping with that scheming tart. I did this for Anne, because despite what would be best for her, losing you has destroyed something inside her. And she doesn't deserve to be treated like this. She doesn't deserve you," the word laced with disgust, "but since you're what she wants…" he let the thought trail off, then shrugged.

Knives turned and sagged against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the ground. He closed his eyes and held the cube close to his chest. "Go away," he said, voice tight with suppressed emotion, and Mark was more than happy to oblige.

*******************************************************************************

Oneechan, you guessed. =Þ