As always, all the disclaimers are located in the first chapter if you need to refer to them for any reason.

~ * Separation * ~

"We have to find him, doctor!"

Joe moved to stand, but the feel of Francoise's slender fingers tightening over his shoulders and gently holding him back forced him to remain seated. The female cyborg stood immediately beside his chair, and he looked between her and the scientist seated nearby as he continued to plead his case.

"There's no way he should be out there alone in his condition!" he argued, crimson eyes alight with worry. "If Black Ghost is behind all this, then…"

"Please, try to remain calm, Joe," Gilmore's tone was firm, but not unkind, and there was a deep sympathy in his tired old eyes as he returned Joe's anxious gaze with a steady one. "I've already sent Albert, G-Junior, Chang and Pyunma out to look for him. I'm sure they'll be back shortly."

Joe looked far from convinced, but after a while lowered his gaze to the floor, shoulders sagging slightly when he sighed. Sitting down across from him, Francoise squeezed her blue-green eyes closed and let out a quiet sigh of her own.

Everything had happened so quickly, she scarcely knew what to do -- or even, really, if she could do anything more than her current activity of simply being there in the room with the only three that remained in the house.

She recalled overhearing Britain's warning scream to Joe just before chaos broke loose. It wasn't like she'd been spying on them or anything; instead, her enhanced hearing picked up the shriek as clearly as if she'd been standing in the bathroom with them. The shock of hearing him swear so viciously was mild compared with what followed.

Francoise had been through enough battles to recognize the sound of a body being knocked backward into a solid wall.

Unconsciously, her fingers tightened their grip on the armrests of her chair as she remembered the swish of displaced air so immediately followed by the crash of Joe's back meeting the wall, the snap of his head jerking backward.

In that instant she had gone rigid, frozen out of pure shock, breath catching in a gasp that arrested the attention of most of the other cyborgs.

The burst of mental bewilderment from Ivan that followed effectively alerted everyone to the fact that something had just gone incredibly awry.

In his surprise, Ivan broadcast his telepathic exclamations not merely at Britain, but to the rest of the household as well. The inadvertent blast of psychic incredulity was strong enough to nearly paralyze everyone who was in the same room as him for a brief moment. Though they recovered quickly, and ran to investigate, by the time anyone'd been able to work out exactly what was happening Britain was already gone.

Gone… undoubtedly frightened of what else he might end up inadvertently doing to his comrades as the virus inside him continued to manifest itself.

Francoise was absolutely certain that whatever was causing his transformation ability to malfunction was also to blame for the incident. Joe had awakened soon enough, and quickly filled the rest in on what had occurred. Based on his behavior, it seemed the most likely and sensible explanation… though certainly not a very comforting one.

"I'm sure everyone will be back soon," she stated, forcing a sad little smile for Joe's sake.

You know, you're not a very good liar, Francoise.

Francoise somehow managed to mask her flinch. She was quite grateful that Ivan had kept that little comment private, since Joe showed no reaction of his own to the telepathic observation. Hopefully the child understood the reason why she tried to speak with such surety while nursing her own secret doubts and worries.

Leaning back in her chair, she absently raised one hand to gently stroke her forehead. If her head hadn't still been throbbing a bit from before, she would have attempted expanding her senses to their limit to aid the search. For the moment, however, she could only rest and wait… hoping the others would give truth to her reassurances by arriving shortly.

~ * ~

It had been a simple matter to decide: if they wanted to locate their wayward teammate quickly, it was far more efficient to split into two groups. There had been no debate or argument about who would go with whom: Pyunma had simply pointed and proclaimed where he was headed, and Albert followed. Geronimo Junior and Chang took another path, planning to scout off around the perimeter of the property.

(It would be much easier,) Albert thought with the faintest trace of bitterness, (if Jet could help scout from above.)

But the temperamental kid hadn't given any hint as to where he was headed or how he could be contacted. Typical thoughtless behavior, the type he'd been scolded for before and yet kept repeating over and over again.

(Well, there's no helping it now. He'll be sorry enough when he gets back and learns how he missed all the action.)

"Seen anything yet?" Pyunma called over his shoulder.

When the German shook his head, so did the aquatic expert, his heavy gaze returning to scan the forest before him. This didn't promise to be an easy task: Britain's talents were specially engineered toward keeping him hidden in plain sight in such situations. If the shapeshifter didn't want to be found, then he probably wasn't going to be found.

Although one would think that, given his current crisis concerning controlling his ability, it would be considerably simpler to locate him. However, Pyunma wasn't about to underestimate his comrade. That would be a stupid mistake, and possibly a costly one, if Black Ghost happened to know of their friend's flight.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, and started forward deeper into the woods with Albert close behind him.

~ * ~

"…Damn…it…"

Curled fingers clawed at the unyielding stone beneath him as the fallen eagle struggled back to consciousness. Hissing through gritted teeth, Jet managed after a few minutes of intense effort to raise his head off the granite. Bronze eyes opening into narrow slits, he craned his neck just enough to get a good look at his legs.

His eyes only confirmed what the feedback from both his cybernetic and nervous systems were already screaming at him. A gash stretched down the outside of his left leg, originated just underneath the joint of his knee and extending to just above his ankle. Beneath the layers of torn fabric and peach skin lay exposed circuitry, frayed wires and damaged equipment sparkling and crackling in the open air.

"…Shit."

Another snarl of exertion accompanied the jerky movements as Jet pushed himself upward, eventually managing to elevate his torso enough that gravity took over and he bent forward, now sitting where he'd fallen and panting heavily. Tentatively he attempted to flex his leg. His test was rewarded with a hastily gulped back screech that turned into a low, grating hiss.

He remained motionless for some time, hunched over and rasping for air, right hand resting on the joint of his uninjured leg while the other arm lay limp beside its corresponding limb. When he began moving again, it was to reach up and undo the knot resting at the base of his neck. Once it was loosened he yanked the scarf from his neck, the long, golden yellow fabric fluttering with the activity.

(Can't stay here forever… Got to get back to the others…)

Once, twice, thrice and more the saffron length wound over, covering and concealing the ruined boot and pants leg and the mess underneath. Several times, in several places down the length, Jet ensured the firmness of the binding with a tug here, a yank there, gritting his teeth whenever the action sent pain rippling up the rest of his body.

Finally, his work was finished, and he sat studying the results. It was crude, to be certain, and hardly a subtle cast. The bright yellow hue of the fabric would only draw attention to the injured appendage. It practically screamed "Look here! A weak point!"

Still, given the circumstances, there was not much else he could do. At the very least, it would serve as a passable method of covering his wound until he could get back to the house and get it treated properly.

Leaning forward so that his palms rested against the ground, Jet inhaled sharply before pushing up. His injured leg shrieked protests as he lurched to his feet, displeased with having to support any weight despite his attempt to favor the other as much as was possible.

But Jet refused to acknowledge the pain, grinding his teeth together tightly while edging one half-step forward. He had much greater concerns right now; like a little pain was about to stop him…!

~ * ~

"G.B.! Where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you are…!"

Chang's call echoed loud and clear through the forest, yet yielded no response in any form that the stout fire-breather could detect.

"You do realize that G.B. does not wish to be found, so it is far from likely that, even if he were to hear you, that he would answer."

There was no sarcasm or malevolence in Geronimo Junior's tone, merely a stoic observation. Chang's shoulders sagged briefly despite his understanding of this, and he turned a distinctly wounded expression on his towering companion.

"I know, but… still… It never hurts to try, right?"

There was the fact that, with his well-intentioned cries, Chang was essentially broadcasting their whereabouts to anyone and anything within hearing range. There was the chance that, even if Britain was nearby, that he was so intent on fleeing his friends that all the shout would motivate him to do is head in the opposite direction. There was the tiny detail that it might fall upon unfriendly ears as well, alerting their enemies to their predicament.

Geronimo Junior was aware of all this, and yet said nothing to dissuade his comrade from his activity. For all the risks, it was more important to keep the fledgling hope in the other's eyes alive and well. Should that fade, their situation would only become more problematic.

So he remained silent, his steady gaze traveling slowly along the trees and bushes even as Chang cupped his hands back around his mouth and resumed his litany. Let him conduct the search his own way; Geronimo would use his own methods. All approaches possible needed to be utilized so long as one ended with the results they prayed for.

"Where are you, G.B.? Please, answer us…!"

~ * ~

Silence and shadows were his tools, his friends, and he embraced both with equal adoration as he made his way carefully toward his destination.

The most minute, the most precise shifts lent his footsteps a finely attuned agility. Like a panther sneaking toward its intended prey, he moved without making a sound, picking his way along. Careful calculations and specific adjustments accompanied each step forward, carrying him a bit closer to his goal.

For all the alterations his body was undergoing to ensure his safe passage, however, his face remained utterly devoid of any sort of response. His mouth was a neutral line, lacking even a firm set. There was no fear reflected on his face, no sorrow, no malice, no anger, absolutely nothing.

The tears that had briefly escaped at the sight of Jet plummeting out of view had long dried. There were no streaks to mark their presence.

There was no light reflected in his eyes; in their place were two panes of glass, twin glossy black marbles that remained fixated straight ahead, relaying all information on what lay ahead to the rest of the body, which shifted correspondingly.

His steady pace did not falter until the sound of footsteps gave him reason to pause. The momentary hesitation was not born out of emotion, but simply a moment of recalculation. Without a sound, the shapeshifter stepped behind the nearest tree and pressed against it, body transforming to appear as a perfectly natural extension of the plant.

At first glance, all one would observe was that the tree got a bit thicker near the base of its trunk. It would take some time watching carefully before one might spot the pair of eyes peering outward from beneath the bark.

When Pyunma and Albert crossed into view, the transmuted cyborg failed to so much as blink. Instead, the cold eyes continued to observe the pair, taking this new development into account.

"We'd better find G.B. soon," Pyunma was commenting to his companion. "The way Joe was acting when he came to, I wouldn't be surprised if he tried accelerating out here to help look if we take too long."

"I'm more concerned about someone else finding him first," responded Albert, right hand flexing unconsciously as his steely gaze swept over the nearby trees.

As they passed the tree the shapeshifter was hiding behind, the staring eyes masked within the false bark blinked. For a moment a touch of softness, of sorrow, glistened in their depths, and a mournful whimper came from the mass.

Albert stopped short and turned around, pivoting the upper half of his body so that he faced the direction the sound had come from. He hesitated, the fingers of his right hand briefly flexing, before turning and following after Pyunma once more, only half-convinced he had heard something.

When they were almost out of visual range, the shape-changed cyborg stirred slightly. His body began to reform, though his camouflage remained even as his head, torso and upper arms emerged from the trunk.

Somewhere within the confines of his body, a flicker of recognition gave birth to a spark of abject horror. But the figure showed no outward reaction and the flash of rebellion was silently extinguished. Soon the weak flash of resistance subsided, lacking any real strength to support the rebellion.

Detaching completely from the tree trunk, 007 resumed his silent stalking, moving inexorably toward his ultimate goal.