Hey, thank you to everybody that has reviewed the story so far. Hope you are all still enjoying it.

Here's Chapter Four. Once again, please read and review....

Chapter Four

Hammond drummed his fingers on the top of the table, staring at the now blank screen. A secretary knocked and opened the door. She glanced at Hammond and walked quickly to Natasha.

"Ma'am, here are the reports you wanted."

"Thank you, Ellen." Natasha took the report off her, and opened it, every page watermarked with the CTU logo. She barely heard the door of her office closing, paging through the report, noting comments made by Tom Baker, Michelle Dessler and other agents.

Including herself.

She felt Hammond's gaze on her and forced herself to keep reading. Forced herself to ignore the sound of his fingers against the glass table top, bruising against nerves already stretched by tiredness and frustration.

She kept reading.

"What are you reading, Natasha?" His voice, coloured with anger and impatience.

She kept reading, turning another page. Another page filled with detailed mission reports, of transcripts of meetings. "They're appraisals Brad. Progress reports."

"Of whom?" He didn't need her to tell him. He already knew the answer.

She played along anyway. "Tony Almeida."

Brad snorted. Since her promotion, Natasha Grey had made protecting Tony Almeida her personal goal. Agency gossip already had her earmarked for a bright future, influence which had already helped Michelle Dessler secure her position at CTU. He snorted again. "And what do they say?"

She turned another page. "That Agent Alemida's conduct and actions since he returned from suspension have been exemplary. That he's going about his duties as if he has something to prove."

"And what do you think Natasha?"

Another rhetorical question. He knew what she thought about the 'Almeida Situation.' He could recite her opinion word for word.

"I think your actions almost cost us two fine agents, losses we could ill afford in the situation. I think your actions could still cost us two fine agents." She didn't even add a 'sir' at the end of the sentence.

Chapelle had never spoken to him in that way. But then Chapelle had never had the connections that Natasha Grey had, nor the skill or personality to use them. "You do know that Tony Almeida committed treason against this country, that he facilitated the escape of a known terrorist, don't you Natasha?"

She finished reading the report, signed her name on the last page. "I know that Tony Almeida was pardoned." She tapped the blue cover of the file. "I know that he has done a hell of a job since he returned. I think its time we took him off probation."

Brad shook his head. "No."

"Brad..."

He raised his voice. "I said no, Natasha! I had to take him back, on Palmer's orders. He is on probation for a year. He fucked up once, I do not share your belief that he won't fuck up again." He rose to his feet, leaning over the table, resting his weight on his hands. "He makes a mistake and he's gone." He walked towards the door. "And not even you will be able to protect him."

Natasha waited until Hammond left the room. She pushed the report away and smiled grimly. "That went well."

Lacking the strength to stand, Alyson crawled across the uncarpeted floor, feeling it rough and cold on her bare knees. She leaned against the chair Jake had sat in, feeling her stomach lurch and twist.

Ashley looked away as she heard Alyson vomit in the corner of the disused room, her retching the only sound in the dark and otherwise silent room. She saw the photos lying crumpled, forgotten where Jake had thrown them. She knelt next to them, keeping a careful eye on the distracted Alyson, slipping one inside her jacket pocket.

Alyson coughed and spat, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Still on her knees, she put her back against the chair and closed her eyes.

How many times? How many different men?

The photos....

Alyson opened her eyes to see Ashley holding a photo in her hands. Hastily she scanned the floor, looking for anymore. Just one, that one. And he had taken others.

His price was rising.

She lurched to her feet, stumbling. "Give that to me. Are there any more?"

Ashley shrugged and handed the photo over. "That's the only one I saw." She resisted the urge to check her clothing, to make sure the photo was still hidden. This role was easy. This role she could play in her sleep.

"Can I borrow your lighter?" Alyson worked the mechanism and the photo burst into flames, bright and hot in the cold room. Alyson held it as long as she could, then threw it on the floor, grinding it beneath the sole of her shoe. Breathing harshly, she handed the lighter back. "Thanks."

Ashley took the lighter back. "What the hell was that about?"

"Doesn't matter." Alyson fought to control her breathing. She reached out a shaking hand. "Can I...?" Part of her hoped that the other woman would just turn and walk away.

Part of her needed her to...

"Sure. You paid for it." Paid for it in more ways than one.

Alyson seized the bag with greedy hands, weighing it in the palm of her hand. Even that was less than normal. His price was going up, along with his expectations and his demands.

"You want to go somewhere? Have a drink or something?"

Ashley shrugged. "Sure." She touched her cell phone, thinking about calling CTU, telling them what she had learned. She shook her head, taking her hands away, pulling her jacket close around her body.

'Lets see what way this plays out.'

Michelle looked out of the window as they drove. Watching LA as they passed through it. She had always loved LA at night, loved it when they sat at the back of their house, watching the sun go down.

Not that they had done that for a while. Not since she had....

She sighed, leaning against the side window, her head still throbbing. The window felt blissfully cool against her cheek. She could almost sleep here, the vibrations of the car, the sound of the engine almost lulling her to...

"You okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, just tired." She didn't open her eyes. But she felt his free hand take hers, give it a brief squeeze.

"Hammond give you a hard time?" Tony wound his window down, flooding the car with cool air. He knew she felt queasy when the car got too stuffy, too hot. "I'd have thought he'd have been ecstatic, given the results we've been getting."

Michelle didn't answer. Squirming in her seat, trying to get comfortable again.

"Or is he still holding me against you?"

"Please Tony, I don't want to talk about work. Please? Cant we just go home, have a few drinks, relax and forget about that damn place?"

"Whatever the Director wants." His sarcasm cutting through the air.

"Don't be like that Tony." Michelle forced herself to sit upright, forcing herself awake. "I had to step up. I didn't have a choice. You were...and Jack was gone. What else could I do Tony? What would you have done?"

As quickly as it had come, his anger disappeared. He could never stay angry at her for too long. It wasn't even her that he was angry at, more the job which demanded so much of them both and gave so little. Sometimes he just wished he had quit when his pardon had come through.

Except he couldn't leave Michelle swimming alone against sharks like Hammond. Natasha Grey might be an ally, but that only made her a friendly shark.

"I'd have done the same thing as you sweetheart." He squeezed her hand again. "Try and get some sleep." She had been so tired recently. "I'll wake you when we get home."

"Thanks Tony." She slumped against the window, still holding his hand tightly and tried to sleep.

"Line 'em up."

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

The bearded man, heavyset, broad shouldered, leaned across the bar. Close enough for the bar man to see the bags under his eyes, smell the booze and cigarettes from his breath. Feel the power in his corded arms.

See the haunted look in his eyes.

"Line 'em up."

The barman filled the shot glasses with Tequila, his arm shaking, spilling booze across the stained bar. The bearded man counted dollar bills onto the bar top and the barman snatched them up. Scared to linger too long.

The man lifted a shot glass and tossed it back. Grimacing as the bitter alcohol hit the back of his throat. He lit a cigarette and took a drag , blowing a smoke ring up into the cloudy atmosphere.

He lifted another shot. Stopping and staring at the tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He thought briefly about hiding it, then shrugged and drank another shot.

That tattoo had made him the man he was today.

"I've just left her."

"How many did you leave?"

"Two." Jake shifted his phone to his other ear and grinned at the driver. "Don't worry, Mikey got a couple of good ones, real good ones."

"Is she still co-operating?"

"The way you got her jonsing man, she'll bend over anything, anyway you want." Jake laughed nastily, Mike grinning as he changed lanes. "I guess you could say she's still co-operating, yeah."

"How long til everything's in place?"

"Tomorrow evening."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure." Jake grinned again, remembering the expression on her face. "I left her in tears, man."

"I hope you didn't push her too hard. I want her breaking, not broken."

"She's still in one piece, don't worry."

"Good, I'll make the arrangements with Oliver. Be ready."

Her apartment didn't look like Ashley had imagined it. Small, neat, tidy. Homelike.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a second." Alyson hung her jacket on the back of the chair and disappeared through a door into another room.

The living room was small, cluttered with photographs. Ashley looked through them. Most of them were of Alyson and another man, about the same age, clean shaven, handsome. His arms around Alyson, both of them smiling at the camera.

A diamond ring sparkled on the ring finger of her left hand.

The man wasn't Samuel Williams.

The rattling of a bottle alerted her to Alyson's return. She hastily took her seat, lighting a cigarette, blowing as much smoke into the air as she could, trying to create the image that she had been smoking since Alyson left the room.

Alyson had changed into something more casual, jeans and a loose shirt. She sat down opposite Ashley and poured her a drink, and then another for herself. She held the glass up.

"Cheers."

Ashley lifted hers. "Here's to men. Those bastards'll fuck you over every time."

"I'll drink to that." Alyson took a mouthful and set her drink down. She lifted the small plastic bag out of her jacket. This was what she sold her soul for. She opened the bag and poured the contents onto the table.

Ashley watched her carefully as she worked.

There was a lighter band of skin on the ring finger of Alyson Rawlings' left hand.

He heard the faint sounds of the juke box, momentarily drowned out by the noise of a cue ball slamming into the rack. Startling him from his thoughts.

He lifted his beer bottle, tilting it against his lips. Empty.

"Shit."

"You want another, Nathan?"

"Yeah, thanks Johnny."

Nathan leaned back against the wall at the corner of the bar, looking around. Noting who else was in Dino's. There was Dan and Mark, propped against the bar, shit faced as usual. Luke and his boys, drinking and playing pool. And then there was...

"Hello." He leaned forward as Johnny came back with his beer. "Johnny, who's she?"

"Who?" Johnny glanced over his shoulder, following Nathan's gaze. "Oh, her." He shook his head admiringly. "Bunch of them came in earlier, some sort of work party. Most of 'em fucked off already." He pointed at a table, laden with empty glasses and bottles. "Still a few here, though."

Nathan pulled another bill from his wallet. "Get her a drink. Tell her it's on me."

Tom stood in front of the mirror. His hair and body still damp from the shower, the bathroom misting up from the steam.

He wiped the mirror clear, staring at his reflection.

Today, tonight, had gone well. Everything had gone according to plan. For once.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror.

For the first time since he had become Director of Field Ops, Tom Baker was able to meet his own eyes and smile.

"We're all set at this end."

"When for?"

"I'll have access to the funds tomorrow evening. I'll be in a position to make the buy by 10pm at the latest."

"So when do my friends get their merchandise?"

"It'll take a little time, just to muddy the waters between us, make sure there's nothing to connect us. But soon."

"I'll speak to you when everything is in place."

The phone line went dead.