Sorry! We had three feet of snow over the weekend, and everything was shut down, because it's the first snow we've had this year (besides powder), and no one was ready, and the wind was terrible, and the roads were icy, and things were truly ridiculous... So yeah.

This is a little slow, but the romance is coming up in the next few chapters. Patience is a virtue, remember that. It's not very near the end yet either. :) Hugs, kisses, love, etc.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.


Valerie did not like the way he smiled. He had an idea. Something that made him feel much more confident than he should have been. It wouldn't be smart to let him know she was suspicious though, so she laughed, and curled up in her corner of the seat. "It suppose it's nice to have a dream."

The medic twisted himself around in the isle, grunting something about how cramped the copters were. "You ought to let me bandage up your hand now, before anymore damage is done."

She waved him away. "No. They need air. I need sleep. Let things be, for now."

"But—"

Behind him, The Tyrant snapped his fingers impatiently. "Why are you playing this game with her, idiot? Did you see what she did a moment ago? Don't make her angry! I'm sure she knows best. Let her handle things in her own way, will you?"

"Sorry sir."

"Don't give your apology to me, give it to her!"

Flushing at the number of mistakes he was making, the medic turned back, and murmured his apology.

Valerie nodded her annoyance and forgiveness, and shut her eyes. "I'll wake up in two and a half hours. Until then."

After a moment of silence, the medic whispered: "How does she know exactly when she'll wake up?"

There was a crack that sounded suspiciously like an open handed slap from The Tyrant (a little girlish), and in a tone that said just how much he loathed stupidity, he said, "She's probably trained herself to wake up after that time for years."

"Not at that particular time." Zane stirred from his corner. "She can wake up at any time she names, if she really wants to. She's got an almost perfect internal clock."

"Oh," whispered the medic.

There was a rustle, a thud, and the click of a seat belt, as someone else moved into the pilot's seat. "Right. Everyone sit down, and buckle in, if you can. If not, don't get overly excited. I'll try to keep things smooth, but there's some turbulence to the north."

"Storms?" asked Zane sleepily.

"Rain along the coast, and snow when we reach the peninsula." There was a comfortable creak of gears and machinery, and the engine began to throb a steady drone.

Slowly, they lifted into the air, and all around, could be heard the sound of the other copters. It was amazing, thought Zane, watching things from half closed eyes, that there weren't any political complications— the government didn't interfere, or anything, and they might as well have been flying an illegal battle squadron across Russia.

When Valerie woke up, two and half hours later exactly, everyone was asleep, except for the two bodyguards who were uninjured, one of whom was piloting.

For a moment, she was tempted to push her luck, and attempt an escape— perhaps jump out of the copter, or hijack it— or something ridiculous like that. But that quickly passed. They were surrounded by copters full of The Tyrant's men. That nixed the hijacking. Jumping wouldn't have been that bad, except for the fact that her body wouldn't be able to handle even a paper cut at the moment.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes, and stretched, careful not to knock her hand against anything.

The bodyguard sitting between her and The Tyrant, jerked around, staring first at her, and then at his watch. "That's two and a half hours exactly! How'd you do it?"

"Practice," mumbled Valerie, and curled back up. "Is there a heater in this thing?"

The bodyguard piloting glanced back at her in the mirror. "Sorry," he said apologetically. "But I'm sure you can take his jacket. He's still out cold, and when he wakes up, I don't think he'll be in the mood to argue with you. You were right. He is stupid. He really shouldn't have been hired in the first place. Too much pride and macho man."

Valerie smiled slightly, and leaned over to look at the man she had put out of action. The medic had swathed his head in a most bizarre white turban, and he look ridiculous, at the least, lying on the floor, drooling on himself. "Do you mind taking it off him for me?" She sat up, waving her hand at the guard in the seat in front of her. "He's heavy, and I don't think…"

"Sure." He leaned over, and tugged it off him, hardly seeming to notice the way he was banging the man's head around.

"Do you all come from English speaking countries, or—"

"Job requirement." With a grunt, he pulled the jacket out from under him, and tossed it into her lap. "I was checking the sites about half an hour ago, and they've got pictures of the damage out all over. Your agent's saying you're sixteen. Are you really?"

Valerie wrapped the jacket around her, and drew her feet into it, so that just her head was peeping out at the top. "Do I look like sixteen?"

"Fourteen."

"I'm flattered. Actually," she shut her eyes, "I'm eighteen, almost nineteen, but I don't suppose it really matters. It's a good publicity ploy. That, and he'll make more money in the betting."

"You sound as though you're used to it."

"I am." Valerie yawned, and pulled the jacket tighter. "I get fifty percent of the bets, plus the cut out of the total fee, plus insurance, cost of equipment and travel, etc.; Rivers is a very generous agent. If I were jailed, I'm positive he'd hire someone to break me out."

"For the money?"

"Of course! What else for?" Valerie was slightly annoyed by the childishness of this question. Of course it was for the money! No one did anything, anymore, for nothing.

"You're very good for a ch— sorry. I mean someone so young. How long have you been working?"

Valerie looked out the window. "Since my fifteenth birthday. I'd rather not talk about it though, if you don't mind. It's a bit of a touchy subject."

"Sure. Why's the Sun Ye On after you?"

A smile twitched her lips for an instant, and then she shook her head. "Because I have some information. It's a whole big mess— a political thing, you see, and if it were disclosed to the wrong person, it would not be a good thing for quite a few people higher-up."

"So, ah, he said— there's a rumor out that you were the one who killed Kusac Trabar. Did you really, or is that just publicity ploy of Rivers?"

"I really killed him, believe it or not. My first job. I wouldn't stop harassing him, and to get rid of me, he told me I could have the job if I bagged Trabar first. I did." Valerie glanced up, as Zane stirred and blinked his eyes at her across the aisle. "Did you get a good sleep?"

Zane groaned, stretched, and leaned back again. "Not enough. I'm going back to sleep if I can. How about you?"

"Don't need it." Valerie met his eyes a moment, communicating that it was fine to go back to sleep. There wasn't much he was going to miss. Besides, it would probably be a while.

Zane settled comfortably, and shut his eyes, quickly falling asleep again. Valerie watched him until he was asleep, and then gave her attention back to the bodyguard.

"Er… I don't quite know how to say this," he began, and then stopped. "Well, are you planning on escaping?"

Valerie laughed. "Actually, I was thinking about it just a few minutes ago. I decided against it however. I have a better plan. I don't want to ruin it. Besides, I don't think this body can take anymore."

"What do you mean?"

She stood, painfully stiff, and moved to the front of the copter to stand by the door. "I was thinking of jumping."

Both bodyguards gave her their undivided attention. "Jumping?" asked the one at the controls. "But we don't have any parachutes!"

"Exactly. So naturally, that would be the least protected escape route, wouldn't it?" Valerie reached up to touch the emergency escape lever, tracing the letters engraved on it. "I don't have a parachute either, which I'm sure you noticed in our packs. However, a parachute is not always necessary when departing from a helicopter."

"What is?"

Valerie shook her head reprovingly at them. "What if I changed my mind later? Why should I tell you?"

"Why would you jump after you told us what you were going to do?"

"Would I tell you what I was going to do?"

"No."

"Then why would you be waiting for it?" Valerie set her injured hand on the lever, looking at twisted, broken pieces of a hand that wouldn't really ever be there after this. "No one would try to fight their way out of The Fortress, so why would you be waiting for it? That is the loophole, you see. You must by unexpected. Always."

"Then why are you telling us this?" asked the pilot in frustration.

"Do you expect me to?"

Her point had been made. This was accepted in silence, and the copter flew on, disregarding the light rain that had begun to fall.

It was getting a little lighter, but already, she could tell it was going to be a day in which the clouds were heavy, and there wasn't much light, and the rain fell perpetually. Dreary. Cold. Wet. Valerie sat back down, and shut her eyes, controlling her breathing. Now was a good time to concentrate.

Perhaps two hours later, the helicopter began to drop, and Valerie slowly pulled herself back into the present. Zane was awake again, though drowsy, and cheerfully discussing a new rifle with the bodyguard sitting in front of her. The pilot was talking to someone on the radio, and The Tyrant was taking this as an opportunity to lecture his fallen guard about overblown pride.

She opened her eyes, and leaned over to look out the window. A good look at the area from above would probably be helpful later. It was quite forested, and very hilly.

"Studying the area?" asked The Tyrant, suddenly rising, and turning around to look at her.

"Of course. It would be stupid not to. Did you know, I've seen at least eleven of the Sun Ye On wandering around below us, and two of them have gotten through your men's line? I would assume they are going to be waiting to assassinate me, just as soon as I make an appearance."

"How can you see that from up here?" The Tyrant stared at her.

Valerie turned her head very slowly, and met his gaze. "I see everything." She kept staring until he looked away.

"Sir?"

"What?" The Tyrant spun around, looking exceedingly grouchy.

"Should I relay what she said to the men on the ground? Just in case?" His hand hovered over the button.

The Tyrant shook his head angrily. "No! She's just making trouble for me! There's no way the Sun Ye On could have gotten their men through my line, and you know it!"

Valerie shrugged expressively. "Very well then. I will take my own precautions." She got to her feet, and walked over to sit down beside Zane, resting her head on his shoulder.

Zane hesitated, and then bent his head so he could whisper into her ear. "Is there something you want me to do about it? Do you have a plan, or was there something else?"

"Well…" Valerie stopped, and finally pulled down his head farther. "Do you think I should let myself get shot? You know— to level the playing field, and make it more fun?"

"To what?" Zane said it so loudly, that everyone who'd been making an effort not to look, in order to be polite, turned to look anyways. "Hell no! To level the playing field? Are you kidding? Fun? Do you not understand the concept of reasonableness?"

"No," said Valerie decidedly. "I do not."


Anyway, I'm almost 100 pages into my next story (A/H), and very cheerful about that.

You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)