Rating – PG-13 (language)
Disclaimer – I don't own Dark Angel and its associated characters and themes. I created Shauna, Christopher and probably one or two others.
Notes – Like I said, I'm re-writing this. I doubt anyone remembers this story even existed. But I'd still appreciate people's thoughts. I'm tweaking bits here and there, hoping it flows better and maybe one or two things can be fixed.

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The wheel goes round and round, some are up and some are on the down, and still the wheel goes round. – Josephine Pollard
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January 1997

Getting out of the car Shauna shivered in a way that went beyond the cold winter day. Glancing up, she looked to see if the proverbial cloud had passed over the sun . . . oh get a grip! she told herself, how melodramatic can you be? On her first official assignment, she was starting to sound like someone out of a cheesy horror novel. Great way to impress everyone – that would really keep her alive. Still, something undeniably evil seemed to hang about this place . . . eugh – there she went again.

She was here to act as a bodyguard of sorts to some women who had agreed to be surrogate mothers for babies that were part of some genetic engineering project. She did not entirely agree with genetic engineering, particularly not with people. The way she figured it, if God had wanted them different, He would have made them different. However, it was not her place to say what was or was not right – she was here to do a job, the one she had been training for all her life. And she would do it. End of story.

Trained from her parents' death to be used as an assassin or a bodyguard, Shauna was a deadly fighter, but she also had to blend perfectly with society. At twenty-two she was small, neat with long, dark hair and light blue eyes. There was very little that distinguished her from the rest of the world's nearly six billion people.

Glancing around, she noticed the signs of winter. The chill in the air, trees – with the exception of the evergreens, dotted here and there – were bare. It was all wrong. At home it was much warmer than this, maybe it was winter there too, but at least it was sunny. She loved the heat of the sun, something this place seemed to lack. Some might consider this a bad omen. Shauna really hated winter.

"Onwards and upwards," she muttered to herself as she headed towards the main building, where she assumed the guy she would be reporting to, Colonel Donald Lydecker, would be. While technically he was to be her superior in actual fact he had no real power over her. She worked for others; he and his had merely hired her. This should be interesting, she thought.

"Hey there."

Spinning at the sound of a voice, her body took on a defensive pose. She blinked and relaxed when she saw the guy standing before her was no threat. Shauna hadn't realized she was so tense; usually she could control such reactions. The man in front of her stood frozen stunned, but relaxed as she did.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you. If you are Shauna Harris, then I'm supposed to be meeting you and escorting you to Colonel Lydecker."

Shauna regarded him warily, he might not pose a current threat, but as an unknown entity, it would wise to be cautious. "I am she. Who are you?"

"Christopher Mason." He held out a hand, for her to shake. Now that Shauna had eliminated him as an immediate trouble she could take in his true appearance. She noticed that he was good-looking, a few years older then herself. Not too tall, blondish-brown hair, grey eyes and from what she could tell, he had a nice body.

When she didn't take his hand, he dropped it. He couldn't possibly know that it wasn't personal, and she could tell he was a little offended. She never shook people's hands – it left you too vulnerable to attacks: that one had been learned the hard way.

Once inside the building, Christopher led her through the corridors, neither of them spoke, but she sensed that it had nothing to do with her not shaking his hand. Obviously, he knew at least a little about her. Maybe he wanted to speak, but was not sure how. A lot of people found it hard to talk to an assassin and even before her life had changed so dramatically to what it was, she had never been one to find a need to fill silence with useless talk. Her training had only added to this.

Christopher stopped and indicated a door that had a brass nameplate reading 'Colonel Donald Lydecker'. He turned, grinning at her, and indicated the door. "There you go – have fun." His tone took on an amused spark as if he knew something she didn't.

Shauna knocked and entered without waiting for a response.

The man, in front of her looked to be somewhere above thirty, with blond hair and cold eyes. He glanced up in annoyance. She had a feeling that she was in for a blasting – not that she cared.

"Colonel Lydecker." She had better use his proper title, as there was no need to purposely antagonise the man – more that she had to, anyway. "I'm Shauna Harris." One of the best things about being what she was was that she did not have a title for people to get wrong or intentionally leave out.

"Of course." His eyes narrowed. She had the feeling that they were not going to get along. Again, it was not as though she cared, authority had never been high on her list of appreciated people, with very good people. Shauna knew first hand what happened when power went to a person's head. If she did have to spend the next few years working for this man – technically, anyway – well she'd let him know she'd never be subservient.

"You're their best. I expected you to be— "

"Bigger, taller…meaner? Well, I'm none of the above and I am the best."

His eyes narrowed further, lips thinning. "On time," he finished.

Shauna spared a thought to wonder why she was being so openly antagonistic. She was not usually. Probably the flight – nasty, cramped things, were those aeroplanes. Perhaps it was the whole authority figure thing. Still, she had to commend him on not rising to the bait.

"You're here to act as a body guard to thirty women, who are and will be carrying genetically engineered children. Although at any one time there will not be more than ten women. The building they eat and sleep is under constant guard, but you will be required to be present when any of them go out on the grounds. You are expected on duty at block twelve, tomorrow at 0630. Christopher Mason will show you to your quarters."

Interview apparently over, he returned to whatever it was that he had been doing when she interrupted. However, she had not finished. "One more thing, Colonel, I may be under your direction, but I'm not under your command. You wanted the best and you paid for it, but I don't work for you. Do not order me around." With that she turned heel and walked out. Hollow victory. She had to do what he said anyway. Her orders might not come from him, but the one she had clearly stated she must 'do as she was told'. Life's a bitch.

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Notes2: I've taken a little bit of creative licence with the way things work at Manticore.

Re-write – I'm still trying to adjust things around what was revealed in season 2. Bare with me, I'm not going to ignore s2, but this fic is based at the Gillette, Wyoming base, and the happenings there. I highly doubt anything major from the Seattle, Washington base will come into this fic. Despite the changes I'm trying to keep this true to what I originally wanted it to be.