This is one of the parts that I have had virtually in its finished form on my hard drive for almost a year.  At last, it is time for it to see the light of day . . .

Nineteen—Scenarios

"What?" she asked, aghast.

"Christopher and Madison Burke are going to be killed tonight," Weiss repeated.

Devlin handed her an envelope.  "There's a hit out on both of you."

Cautiously, she opened the envelope.  Photographs and papers spilled out.  She recognized herself—Madison—and Christopher in the photographs as they went about their daily lives.  Eating lunch at a café, standing outside and talking to their neighbors, driving off in their car to run an errand.  Sleeping in their bed.

Ice ran through her veins.  "Has he been pulled yet?" she questioned in an even tone.

"Surveillance shows he's been inside Pyper-Ferguson all day.  As soon as he leaves for lunch, we'll nab him."

"That's not good enough.  He needs to be pulled now!" she argued.

"We can't risk calling him inside Pyp—" Weiss began before Devlin interrupted him.

"We know what we're doing, Grace," Devlin told her forcefully.

"Oh, you mean like when you set me up with the wrong man?" she said bitterly.

He ignored her comment.  "Besides, what should it matter to you?  You finally got what you wanted.  The op is over."

"Is it?" she challenged.  "I can't go back to being Grace either, can I?  So what will it be?  Witness protection for both of us?"  She looked around the room frantically, hoping to see heads shaking "no."  She didn't like what she saw.

"Unfortunately, Christopher and Madison Burke will die in a car accident tonight," Devlin said solemnly.  "A drunk driver who somehow missed the random police check points will run into them, causing their car to run off the road and into an embankment, instantly catching on fire.  They will die instantly."

He said it so matter-of-factly, as if he faked deaths every day.  Who knows?  Maybe he does.

Madison remained silent, trying to absorb this information.

"Our officers are creating new papers for both of you," Weiss finally said.  "The packages will be ready in the next few hours."

She looked at him, horrified.  Never in her worst nightmares had it ended like this.  Usually it ended with her telling Burke the truth, that their first meeting had been a lie, that she wasn't Madison Greene, lowly record label employee, but really Grace Thompson, CIA operative.  Usually it ended with her waking drenched in a cold sweat, quietly slipping out of bed to use the hair dryer on a low setting out in the kitchen to dry her nightgown off.  Until last night, she had never imagined her nightmares wouldn't be the worst case scenario.  Because she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, this new reality she was living in eclipsed her worst fears.

The quiet room was disturbed when Devlin's cell phone rang loudly.  She ignored his conversation while she tried to absorb this latest information.  A few minutes later he clicked his phone off and sighed.  "Thompson?"

"Yes?" she said eagerly.  The fact that he had called her by name thrilled her; it might be the last time she could answer to it.

"Is there something wrong with your cell phone?"

She stared at him, puzzled.  "It was working fine this morning—oh."  She retrieved it from her purse.  "I must have turned it off."

Weiss sighed.  "We went crazy trying to find you, and all this time your phone was turned off.  Nice, Grace."  She rolled her eyes as she set the phone on a nearby desk.

"Surveillance suspects that Burke won't be leaving the facility for lunch, so we need you to get him out of there.  Now.  Tell him you want to meet for lunch, right here, right now."

She protested.  "You don't mean to tell me I have to pull him in, do you?"

"Think of it as your final duty as a loving wife," Weiss cracked.  He picked up her phone and handed it to her.

With shaking hands she dialed the number she had memorized before he had even given it to her.  Back then it just was another piece of information from his file that had to be learned.  Seven months later, it was different.

"Hey, Maddie," he answered.

"Chris," she breathed in.  Noticing how she was being watched, she quickly stood and walked a few steps away, turning her back to her audience.

Instantly he was aware something was wrong.  "Sweetie, what is it?  Are you okay?  Did something happen?"

"Chris, I need you to do something for me.  You have to promise you will do exactly as I say and that you will tell no one where you are going.  No one.  Not your colleagues or a random person on the elevator or a little old lady you see crossing the street.  No one.  Okay?"

"Did someone threaten you?" he asked in a low voice.  She remained silent.  "Madison?  Hello?  Madison, you're worrying me."  She belatedly realized she had used her "agent voice" on him, not the voice he was accustomed to hearing.  No wonder he was worried.

She took a deep breath and tried to smile; she knew he would be able to hear it in her voice.  "Just promise me."

"Fine, I promise," he replied hurriedly.  "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"You know that sub shop I love?  The one near the office?  I need you to meet me there now.  Immediately.  As in, get in your car right this instant and—"

"I got you," he laughed.  She could sense his relief, even over the phone.  "Really, Madison.  You're all worked up because you need to see me in a restaurant?"

"What did I tell you about not telling anyone?" she practically yelled into the phone.  "Somebody could be listening to you!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" he said in a low voice.  "You keep going back and forth.  Are you safe or are you in danger?  Did they get to you?"

"Chris, you've got to trust me.  I need you to leave Pyper-Ferguson.  Now."

"I'm on my way," he said.  "I'm walking down the hallway, and now I'm heading out the door, and now I'm walking to my car—oh, wait."

"What do you mean, wait?"

"I just realized I left my briefcase—"

"I do not give a damn about your briefcase," she interrupted harshly.

"But it's got—"

"I don't care what's inside it.  If you are not in your car in the next thirty seconds, I will personally kill you," she threatened.

"Okay, I'm going, I'm going," he panted.  "I'm jogging to my car.  Does that make you happy?"

"Maybe."

Forty torturous seconds later she heard a familiar dinging noise.  "Okay, Madison, I'm in the car.  I should be there in about ten minutes."

"Please hurry," she whispered.  "And be careful."

"I will, honey.  I just don't understand what you're all worked up about."  He heard silence on the other end.  "Maddie?  Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she said in a low voice.

"Whew.  You had me worried again," he laughed.  "I guess I'm just overacting, right?  Okay, I'll see you in a few.  I love you, oh graceful one."

She closed her eyes, remembering when he had first used that name.  "I love you too," she whispered, then quickly hung up the phone.

"He's on his way," she said calmly as she turned back around.  She was fairly certain they had heard every word of her exchange with him, but at this point, she didn't really care.  What did she have to lose at this point that they weren't already taking away?

"Good," Devlin nodded.  He gestured with his hand.  "I'll be in the next room if you need me," he said before turning and walking away.

Dorothy and Weiss stared at her from their seats.  "So this is it," Dorothy began.

She nodded dully as she collapsed into her chair.

"Not like you expected, is it."

"I never thought I would have to go into witness protection," she mumbled.  "I thought I'd retire from the Agency someday."

"You'll get a star in your honor, of course, but your name won't go on it.  And maybe someday you'll get used to your new life, maybe even enjoy it a bit," Dorothy continued conversationally.  "You never know.  The CIA might cross your path again someday."

Madison blinked as she looked up.  "You were CIA," she realized.  "That's why this was deemed a safe place for me to go, even before the op officially began."

"I was pulled about twenty years ago.  It seems like a lifetime ago now," she reminisced.

"Are you glad you did it?"

"At first, I wasn't.  I would have rather died at the hands of the KGB.  But now?  I may not have the life I used to dream of having, but this is a pretty good alternative."  Dorothy reached over and squeezed her hand.  "You just have to find the best in every situation."

Again a cell phone interrupted the conversation.  This time Weiss whipped out a phone and answered it.  "How much longer?  Good.  We'll need them hand delivered to—what?  Oh."  He stared at Madison for a second, a question in his eyes.  What? she mouthed to him.  He shook his head.  "Let me call you back."  He placed the phone on the table beside him.

"Burke's packet is ready to go," he told her.  She sighed with relief.  "They've set up most of your packet too, but they haven't begun to print the documents yet."

"Why not?"

"They . . ." He shook his head.  "This is crazy," he muttered to himself.  "Even in our world, this is crazy."

"What's crazy?" she pressed.

"They haven't started printing your documents yet because they wanted to know if they needed to print something extra."

"Like what?" Dorothy asked for her, a glint in her eye.

Weiss stared Madison squarely in the eyes.  "A marriage certificate."

"You mean—"

"I mean, if you want to ever see Burke again, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Madison sat back, stunned.  Had he just offered her what she thought he had?  It was a stunning proposal, mind-boggling . . .

And impossible.  Chris would be ready to murder her once he knew the truth.  "Hi, honey, we met because the U.S. government set us up even though they made a mistake and now we're on the run for the rest of our lives.  Okay?"  She didn't want to think about the look on his face when he learned that he had been duped.  She remembered all too well how she had felt the night before when she thought he had duped her, that he didn't really want to marry her.  Madison.  She couldn't imagine what would happen if she had to explain her insane story to him.

She swallowed.  No, they had to go their separate ways.  Make a clean break.

But on the other hand . . . surely he could forgive her.  Eventually.  She was once again reminded of what had transpired overnight—not only had Madison forgiven Chris, but she was willing to stay with him during this difficult time.  Even if their marriage had been rushed.  And it wasn't as if he had been duped for, say, ten years.  And hadn't he said that even if they met under different circumstances . . . ?

Maybe . . . but no.  She had to be realistic.  It would never work.

She closed her eyes and tried to fight back the tears she knew were coming.  She would kill to have Derevko in the room with her right now, to get her perspective on this.  Think, Mad—Grace, think.  If Irina had had this choice, what do you think she would have done?  The answer was obvious; or at least, she hoped it was.  But did that really help her?

"Grace.  Grace," Weiss prodded.  She blinked and jerked her head towards him.

"Yes?"

He held his phone in his hand.  "I need to call them back with an answer.  What will it be?"

Madison closed her eyes, a million images flitting through her mind.  I guess your life can flash before your eyes, even if you're just faking your death.  Gradually the maelstrom slowed until she was certain.

"Grace?"

She opened her eyes.  "I've made my decision."

tbc