Title: A New Flame

Timeframe: Late Season Three, after Remnants

Author: Edes

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me

General Note: Did Will ever go meet that painter? How's life treating him in Wisconsin?

Summary: More adventures with Will and Leah.

Feedback welcome and appreciated!!!

Part Three: Three pair of aces

The afternoon light streams into the child's bedroom window, brushing over two heads of dark hair. One girl's hair is straight and shinier than a new penny, the other's wavy and thick as a horse's tail. It is a careless summer day, the kind that only exists when you are five, or freshly in love. Afternoons on days like this go on forever: twilight seems unwilling to advance against the golden color of the air.

The two girls' heads bow over their game. Small hands rearrange ponies and dolls into strategies that would seem random to an adult observer. The girls laugh and chatter.

"I want to be the white rainbow pony this time. You can be the minty clover one."

"OK, but I get to be the mermaid when we play Beneath the Waves next. And you have to be the dolphin."

"'K." The girls grin at each other amiably. They always open each round of their play with careful negotiation. It's part of the fun, the set up. The planning.

Dressing Barbies is almost as entertaining as changing their jobs, or directing their adventures with kens or g.i. joes stolen from brothers. Each new outfit is another chance to experiment, to act differently. To set up a different way the game is played.

"Girls! Who wants popsicles?" A voice from below floats up on the lazy summer heat.

The girls look up as one, their lips forming little 'o's of anticipation. They jump up and run downstairs. The toys are forgotten, halted in the mysterious patterns of play.

It is another endless afternoon that summer. The girl with the shiny hair is dressed in a frothy pick tutu and leotard from last spring's dance recital. Mom cut the feet from the tights so they would still fit. She dances on bird legs—little naked feet jutting out from the cover of the tights. The girl goes up on her tiptoes, sticks a leg out, pirouettes. She runs through all five dance positions with an air of grave importance. Her large mouth thins slightly in concentration. Her small, brown eyes are serious.

The girl with the wavy hair watches, copies. Her expression is a mirror to the other's; her blue eyes are steady on her friend. Before long, they are both doing the routine with enthusiasm—even the kicks that Mme. Danais said would have to wait until next week. The impromptu lesson breaks down when the avid student tumbles over a thicker clump of grass, landing on her bottom with an expression so amazed that her instructor can't help but laugh a little. Dimples flash on the young girl's face as she giggles.

The wavy-haired girl gets up good naturedly, unhurt. "It's not hard, really. I just tripped. You should try a cartwheel if you think that's tough." She smiles to offset the bossy words. They are always pushing each other.

"Show me how, and I will." Brown eyes shine as the other girl accepts the challenge.

"OK. You put your hands up like this—."

"Sydney! Leah! Time for dinner!"

A woman stands tall in the doorway of the house. The sun makes her outline glow, creating a translucent halo from the little hairs that have escaped her ponytail.

"Make sure you wash your hands first, OK, ladies?"

"OK, Mom."

"OK, Ms. Bristow."

"After dinner, I have a surprise for you two. I thought we could have a ladies night in since Sydneys's father is away. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Leah looks at the beautiful, strong, kind woman and thinks that it would be.

[Will]

Will won't let go of his gun. Not this time.

"Why are they after you? How can you run and jump like that? Who are you working for?" The questions flooded from Will, but he was controlled, furious.

He shouted again. "Answer me, now! Were you sent here to watch me?" Funny how I seemed to be doing this a lot. First Syd, now Leah.

Maybe I'm losing my mind.

Leah breathed heavily. Will thought she might hyperventilate. "Jonah," she gasped.

It set his teeth on edge, hearing her use that name. But maybe—just maybe—she's not a spy, doesn't mean to injure him with his alias.

Everyone is a spy. Even people you love. Especially people you love.

"Jonah, I don't know what you are talking about! I'm just me! I live upstairs. We never met before today! Please, put the gun down! I'll swear to you—on anything!"

He kept the gun trained on her, waited.

"I-I'm fast because I was a gymnast. I even wanted to go to UCLA. To the Olympics. I-I destroyed my right ankle at a meet in high school and-and had to quit."

He didn't know why she supplied these details. But hearing them spoken into the lethal space between her and his gun added a note of reason to his fury. They sounded so normal.

She gestured to the crumpled forms on the ground. "I don't k-know who these people are, or-or why they chased us. I don't know who Irina is, either. You can kill me here, but you won't learn anything, because I. don't. know. anything!"

Will finally heard the terrified tone of her voice. He lowered the gun a little. If she doesn't know anything, I'm really being an asshole. She probably saved my life. He didn't put the gun down, though.

He knew telling her anything was a risk, but he reasoned that knowing just what he meant would make it easier for her if she was innocent, and harder for her if she was not.

"Who is the woman in your painting, then? The blue one on your easel?"

Leah blinked. "L-laura Bristow?"

[Leah]

Leah noticed his slight relaxation and other emotions started to assail her body. Anger and pain. What was going on here? Who the fuck was he? What the hell did her paintings have to do with anything? Why had three people just tried to kill them? Shit, her ankle hurt. She fought the old pain. It made her angrier. I saved his damn life. Crazy asshole.

Despite her rising fury, he still had the gun, so she forced herself to answer his insane question. Anger steadied her voice. "Laura Bristow was the mother of a childhood friend. The series I was starting was about people from my past that I—looked up to. Ms. Bristow—Laura, I guess—was always so…put together. I wanted to be just like her as a kid." Not like my frowsy, chubby mother.

Leah blinked. I can't believe we're wasting time on this! What about the fucking assassins?

Leah watched as Jonah seemed to deflate a little. Maybe he believes me. Maybe she wouldn't have to tell him the rest of it.

"You knew Sydney?" he stuttered. The name fluttered in the air like a broken kite. Jonah seemed at a loss.

His hesitation gave her courage. She was small but not weak. This has gone on long enough. "I'm not answering anything else until you tell me what the fuck is going on. Who are these people? Who are you? What should we—."

The approaching sounds of tires screamed at them. Someone was driving here, fast.

"Quick, get back!" Jonah shouted. They dove into the trees again, waited. Leah's heart was hammering. Her leg was throbbing. This is it, isn't it?

Through her pain, fear and anger, she noticed that he'd become protective of her again. His arm was flung behind her back, but the gesture felt like it was meant to shield her, not pin her down. Apparently he'd decided she was the least of several evils. She felt the same way about him.

It wasn't much, but maybe it would get them out of this alive.

The tires on a hulking black SUV shredded the ground in front of their unconscious attackers as it slid sideways to a dramatic stop. Four men jumped from the vehicle and began loading the three figures into the car. A young blonde man got out of the passenger's side, moving with quick, contained motions.

Leah felt Jonah catch his breath. When he released it, it was a low hiss through clenched teeth. She thought she heard him say something sibilant, maybe a name. She was too busy trying not to scream, though—the man was looking directly at their hiding place. His expression was a composed but blank mask. Almost lazily he flicked his eyes to the supine woman being loaded into the van.

The man's eyes widened with barely concealed surprise. He bent to take a closer look, to touch a piece of hair. His hand lingered near her face; he seemed lost in thought. Perhaps calculating the angles of a new situation. The men handling her looked up at him, awaiting his signal. Finally, a small sneer broke his brief reverie, and he snapped back into action.

His English accent sounded alien in the Wisconsin summer air. "Finish this and get our contact on the phone."

The woman went in the van, a live cell phone came out. The man seemed bored as he spoke with his superior.

"Yes, we've extracted the team. From the looks of things, Tippin and the girl are gone. Not that I blame them." A smirk and a pause.

"Either the op was carelessly performed or something warned them. Tippin's not that talented. Although he does seem to be extremely fortunate." Pause.

"That will be impossible at the moment—she's been knocked unconscious." Pause.

"Why didn't you mention her involvement before? I would have found an earlier situation even more amusing." A longer pause, the man grew more serious.

"Local police forces are already at the apartments: we shall retrieve the item later. And this time we're going to do it my way." The blonde man terminated the call and looked again at the trees. His eyes seemed to bore into Leah's own, even though she knew if he could see her she would be dead already. Holy shit. I'm going to lose it.

"I've got a message I would like to send Will Tippin." The man said quietly to himself. He blinked once more at the trees and sprang back into the vehicle, which spun away.

Leah slowly came back to herself. Her features unscrewed from their twist of worry. She turned on her back, breathing slow draughts of air until her heartbeat slowed to normal. She lay like that for what she thought was close to twenty minutes. I don't think they are coming back.

She looked over. Jonah was still tense with rage. He glared miserably at where the man had stood. It took Leah two tries to get his attention.

"Hey," she whispered. "Hey!" She nudged him, and got the full effect of his azure gaze. His eyes were as bright as searchlights. She hesitated, swallowed. She waited as his eyes refocused and he recognized her.

"We have to find someplace safe," she said. "That is, if you think you can trust me, now." She took a chance and guessed. "Can I trust you, Will Tippin?"

He evaluated her calmly, then stood up. "OK, let's go." He held out a hand. "You can trust me, Leah Monroe."

She pulled back her already extended hand, said suspiciously, "How do you know my last name?"

A welcome hint of a smile crossed his face. "What? You don't snoop at the mailboxes?"

She actually laughed as she let him help her up.

End of Part Three