Chapter Six

Steve looked around, stunned and confused, unsure at first if he'd been hit. All four men - gunmen and strong-arms - were down. Standing off to one side, the gun still in her hand, frightened to the point of violent trembling, was Jaime. Steve knew she'd never fired a gun at anyone before and had certainly never taken a life. Her face was ghostly-white, and she threw the gun down as if it were on fire and sank to the ground, dissolving into silent torrents of tears.

Steve was instantly at her side. He gathered Jaime into his arms and, as she sobbed with her head buried against his chest, he quickly assessed her condition and for the first time since he'd arrived, he felt true fear. She was burning with a fever so high, he wasn't sure how she'd managed what she'd just done. He'd thank her later for saving his life, but he knew at that moment she'd take it to mean 'Thank you for killing four people'. Steve was also in some pain of his own, realizing his left arm was broken and his balance was way off from being hit in the head. Neither one of them was capable of jumping the fence.

He figured they had ten or fifteen minutes, tops, before guards came to investigate. He tenderly rubbed Jaime's back, ignoring his own pain to try to soothe and comfort her, while his brain scrambled for some way to keep both of them safe. Jaime let out one very soft cry of pain and collapsed, unconscious, in his arms. Steve knew they were about as far as they could possibly get from being out of danger.

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He had genuinely tried to do what was asked of him, but found it impossible. He'd take his lumps - and a good chewing-out, if necessary - but dammit, Oscar was going back to work!

Odd; why was his office door wide open when he'd closed and locked it? His eyes fell upon a truly horrific sight. The Secretary of State, or what was left of him, was sprawled across Oscar's desk with one arm extended, the hand clutching something as though holding it out for Oscar to find.

Oscar had to turn away for a moment, absorbing the shock and horror, then pried open his dead boss's fist. The Secretary had been holding a matchbox that was embossed with the Presidential Seal. It felt empty, and Oscar pushed it open. Printed in very neat, tiny letters, he read desk-PC. Oscar moved fast; in one of the drawers of Peggy Callahan's desk, he found a small yellow envelope with his name on it, with a cassette tape inside. After carefully locking his office door, Oscar set out to find Jack Hansen - his cohort from the NSB - and a tape player.

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Steve gently laid Jaime on the bed in the tiny cabin where she'd first taken refuge. He pushed the empty refrigerator in front of the door to block it and as he turned he saw his backpack, which Jaime had neatly stashed in a corner. He dug through its contents, searching for the 'emergency packet' Rudy had tucked inside.

Jaime had begun rolling and thrashing about in the bed, as the kaleidoscope of images in her mind kept twisting and changing. She watched herself die on the operating table, as though she were hovering near the ceiling, observing. She saw Rudy shake his head sadly as he walked from the table, saw Steve take her hand and kiss her. She saw his tears...

A gentle familiar hand on her forehead re-routed her back to the present and Jaime opened her eyes. Steve's loving face looked down at her, his eyes filled with concern. "Welcome back," he said softly.

"Are...you ok?"

Steve smiled. "Don't worry about me right now. I'm fine, thanks to you." He had to be imagining it, but Steve thought he saw something - a look of recognition, maybe? - that hadn't been in her eyes the last time they'd been together. He pushed the thought aside and gently brushed the hair from her face. "Do you think you can sit up?" he asked. Jaime nodded, and he assisted her with his good arm. "Here," he said, handing her a pill from Rudy's little packet, and holding out the canteen. Trusting him completely, she swallowed the pill without any questions, her eyes never leaving his.

"It's an antibiotic," Steve told her. "A strong one; you should start to feel better soon."

Jaime smiled weakly at him. "Where are we?"

"We're still in that cabin where you put the backpack."

Her eyes grew fearful. "Oh."

"We'll be ok," he reassured her. "They haven't found us yet, and I've got the door barricaded, so they can't get in when they do come. We're safe."

"For now," Jaime added quietly.

"Pretty soon, I should be able to clear the fence, and take you with me."

Jaime noticed his arm, hanging limp at his side. "Your arm -"

"It'll be fine."

"Steve -"

Steve leaned over the bed and kissed her softly on the forehead. "Don't worry," he told her. As he started to straighten up again, his eyes met hers, and were trapped there, but he still refused to accept what his senses were telling him. There is just no way; not after all this time...

Jaime leaned forward, caressing his face with her hands and confirming what he hadn't dared to believe when she kissed him fully but very softly on his lips. Her arms moved to his waist, holding him gently, mindful that he was hurt. Steve's own arms automatically fulfilled his most vivid sensory memory, pulling her close to extend and deepen the kiss. For a few brief seconds, they forgot where they were. When they drew back to look at each other with both shock and joy, Steve nodded. "I'm not crazy...you do have your memory back."

"I'm surprised no one blabbed." Jaime's eyes grew wide as she listened to a distant sound. "Steve - they're coming!" They sat very still and silent, arms around each other, as guards pounded on the door and tried to ram it open. Then the air grew very quiet; too quiet. Soon, they knew why.

"I smell smoke," Jaime noted. "Oh no...!" The wall at the front of the cabin had begun to burn. They both knew the miniature sink wouldn't be any help in trying to put out a fire.

"Jaime," Steve said, touching her face, "I want you to go up the chimney. From there, maybe you can clear the fence." The chimney was narrow. Steve didn't have to tell her - she knew he wasn't planning to follow her.

"I won't leave without you."

"You have to! Please, Jaime."

"No." She got off of the bed and moved to the fireplace, looking up. "I have an idea," she said, taking a small hop into the very beginning of the chimney. Bricks, mortar and dust formed a huge cloud that filled the cabin as the walls shook with the force of whatever she was doing. "Steve!" she called from the roof, "C'mon up - hurry!" She had widened the chimney with her frantic kicks, just enough for him to follow.

Steve joined her and they both saw the guards, who had backed away after setting the fire, now advancing toward them once again as the flames reached up to claim the roof. They looked at each other, a very fast, split-second look, but a very deep, emotion-filled one as well. They knew without saying that they had only one shot at the fence, and it was possible - likely? - that they wouldn't make it.

"I love you," Jaime whispered.

Steve wanted to answer, but the roof began to collapse beneath their feet and they had no choice left but to jump. They both landed on the other side of the fence and were grabbed by many pairs of strong hands that pulled them further away from the compound as a huge explosion filled the sky.

"Courtesy of the OSI and our new President!" someone declared, and Steve realized that, at precisely the crucial moment, the rescue team had arrived.

"Took you guys long enough," he said, just before he passed out.

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