Day had turned to night and what had been a gentle breeze tugging at the edges of the sun's warmth was now stiffer and a damn-sight colder. O'Brien's attempt to look casual had him wearing a long light brown trench coat, the collar pulled up around his neck.

"How do I know this isn't a set up?" he asked. It was a valid question, and trust seemed to be a resource in short supply.

"I suppose you don't," Blair said, the insulation on her Starfleet jacket proving enough to shield her from the slight chill. Either that or she was as tough as old boots.

"And why is it so important that *I* transport this data crystal?"

"If you want proof of what they're doing then you need to make the delivery."

She was shifting her weight back and forth, either she was in fact cold and attempting to conceal it, or she was nervous.

"I don't understand if you've got the data, why can't you share it with your source in the media?"

O'Brien wasn't oblivious to Blair's growing discomfort, but he wanted answers (dammit).

"For it to be believable it must be delivered by someone with public integrity. Who better than a decorated Starfleet Officer now serving at the Academy."

O'Brien was nodding, it made sense, but he still didn't like it.

"I wasn't an Officer you know," he said, he offered no further line of argument and Blair rightly took this as his acceptance of the situation.

"I know," Blair said, she was still Section 31 after all.

O'Brien's hands were in his pockets, they idly fiddled with the data crystal. They stopped suddenly as the importance of what he was doing began to creep over him. The ramifications for the outing of this truth would have serious consequences for the Federation.

As if she were reading his mind (She wasn't half Betazoid was she?), Blair said: "We are vassals of the truth you and I." Her words were bringing O'Brien further into her cabal, they were as thick as thieves now. "What happens as a consequence of this truth is not our concern."

It was a compelling argument O'Brien gave her that, but he was still a little uneasy. What had Blair's partner said about this not being the opportune time to risk weakening the Federation's military capability with a scandal of this variety and magnitude.

With their conversation at a natural conclusion, but O'Brien still not moving, Blair decided she'd offer him a final word; "This Federation was founded on truth. You can question my actions, and the actions of my comrades, but you cannot question that; ultimately, it is this truth that we are all working for."

She looked into O'Brien's eyes, the way a mother sending her son off to war would. She needed him to delivery this data, needed him to expose whatever it was *they* were doing. For the good of the Federation.

O'Brien turned to go, took one last look at Blair, searching her eyes for the slightest hint of dishonesty; found none and left.

She watched him go, his hands never leaving his pockets. She presumed he'd be clasping the precious cargo tight. O'Brien pulled his collar further up his neck, turned the corner at the end of the alleyway and disappeared from sight.

Now alone Blair in-took air, nothing she had said was a lie; but she was so used to lying that she had almost forgotten how to tell the truth.

She worried. She worried about a great many things. Would O'Brien make delivery? Would the media do what needed to be done, or did *their* reach extend into all outlets? Would Andreas betray her? His apathy seemed real and was very much in character, but what were his underlying beliefs? She worried. She worried about what that noise was behind her? The one that sounded like someone approaching? That sounded like someone unholstering a weapon.

And then she never had to worry about anything ever again.

::::::::

O'Brien left Blair behind. She was just one of many enigmas he'd unearthed these past few days. He wasn't really sure what he was rallying against anymore, he was just glad Keiko and the kids were far away from this and safe. (Who would've thought he'd been worried about his family's safety here on Earth?): he wondered, I guess that's what everyone thought on the morning of the Breen attack as well.

He resolved to make this hand off. Unleash whatever evidence this fifth column may have uncovered unto the greater zeitgeist. He would complete this task…

"Oh hell," O'Brien managed to say before his fight or flight kicked in. Never afraid of a fight, but equally adaptable, on this occasion O'Brien ran. He turned back onto the street from whence he'd came, hoping to spot the man he'd come here to see, or at least a neutral who'd potentially come to his assistance. The once semi-busy street, was now almost totally devoid of people and the couple who still walked by were elderly. (Would most likely not have helped anyway, O'Brien reminded himself, remembering he was dressed like a villain from a Dick Tracy comic and those right at the cusp of giving him chase were dressed as the always trusted Starfleet.)

He took just a beat to assess his options before spying a low hung exterior fire escape ladder on the opposite side. He made a break for it.

Unfortunately he was a lot older (Aren't we all) than he used to be, and that beat, had cost him what little advantage his old legs had had of maintaining his distance to his now sprinting chasers.

The three men were on him just as O'Brien made the opposite curb.

::::::::

Andreas had remained behind in the safe house. Blair and him had been partners, sole inhabitants of this particular Section 31 cell, since just before the war broke out. He'd been in Starfleet Intelligence prior to that; working mainly domestic cases on the Federation's core worlds. He had enjoyed the work but it didn't scratch all of the itches.

He'd met Blair, been recruited by her, in that aggressive 'join us or die' kind of way Sloan had once tried to recruit Bashir and O'Brien, and he'd loved her ever since. It wasn't a romantic love, but nor was it a brotherly love. It was something in between that, if he'd ever been asked (which he hadn't) he would've described as "caring deeply" for her.

He could never be sure, because it had gone unsaid, whether Blair felt the same. (Was ignorance always bliss?)

He'd remained behind in the safe house on this op, as travelling in a group greater than a two always drew attention, even if that was just the casual eye of a Parisian diner who'd remember them later under questioning, and it wasn't worth the risk.

He disagreed with Blair on the timing of this release. The Federation's borders were vulnerable; it wasn't just wolves at the gates; it was Cerberus himself, and this truth could destabilise the nucleus that kept 150 different worlds together. But he had, as always, agreed to go along with her intended release date. He had worked tirelessly, risked much; both professionally and personally to get them this far and he wanted to see it through. He felt better knowing he and Blair, along with their other Section 31 colleagues, would be there; best placed, to help the Federation through whatever fallout that would be the eventual outcome.

He was a practical man, as with many Humans in the 24th Century devoid of any religion or spiritualism. That said, Andreas had come to believe that two people; even those not blood related or romantically linked, could still come to sense one another's wellbeing across great distances. It was a belief he hadn't been taught as a child, but rather learnt through the trials and tribulations he'd gone through in the field. Much akin to the old adage; "There's no atheists in a fox hole".

Which is why now, alone in the dark, in that small Section 31 safehouse, Andreas (For the first time in his entire adult life) sat and cried.