Princess ignored the hot pounding in her thigh and ribs as she fell to her knees beside Eric and Damien, both of whom were covered in debris, blood, and soot from the explosion.

She, herself had a large gash on her forehead from flying debris, but ignored the pounding of the wound in order to tend to her teammates.

"Gosh," she whispered more gruffly than was normal for her voice, "what happened?"

Of course there was no answer to her question beyond a creak from a weakened support beam over her head. She raised her eyes to quickly assess the danger. "I've got to get you guys out of here."

Her eyes fell to the pair of downed men in front of her as she heard a familiar groan and shuffle of papers and wood shards. "Damien," she sighed in relief as she quickly slid across the floor on her knees to help shove the larger pieces of debris off him. "Are you okay?"

His eyes blinked as he held back a smartass reply. "Yeah, Cass. It's nothing."

"Liar," she muttered with a relived smile as she watched his forearm bend in a way that should only have been possible if he had an extra joint.

He winced as the pain of a broken arm crept into his senses, but managed to smile. "Anything for you, Darlin'." His eyes fell to Eric, whose eyelids were slightly ajar to reveal a very still stare of brown eyes. "Oh fuck, Cass. Please tell me he isn't…"

Her lips pursed in an unbreathed "shush" as she pressed her fingers against Eric's carotid artery to feel for life. "He has a pulse, but it's weak." In a habitual move gained through her years of panic in battle with G-Force, Princess raised her wrist to her mouth. "G-3 to Neptune Med …" her voice cracked with worry as she heard a gasp from her partner.

"Cass?"

Princess' wide eyes only widened further as she searched her mind for a viable explanation that didn't involve her actually being the G-Force Swan. "Uh."

Damien raised his hand to ask her to stop. "It's not important right now, Cass." He tipped his chin to the walkie-talkie microphone on his shoulder. "Detective Knight to Base-camp. Sarge, you listening?"

His eyes remained on his female partner as he called in their damage report to Sergeant Barron.

It should have been obvious a long time ago, his mind warned as his mouth focused on the call, that the woman sitting with him was the Swan. Why? Well, one: she had incredible grace and calm in the face of weaponry and explosives. Two: A girl too young to know so much about the most abstract and uncommon explosive mixtures and units. Three: Her intricate knowledge of the workings within the Federation, and their penchant for specific and detailed reporting of findings. Four: The way she seemed to long for the man who wore the wings of the Eagle. There was more to her admiration than fangirl. She seemed as though she'd "been there", like she knew exactly who the man was. He saw how intently she watched the news reports and read the tabloids.

The Federation could deny it as much as they wanted. The rest of the world knew it. They saw it. They watched it. The Eagle and Swan had been in love.

And now he had "five" to add to the list: The Eagle and the love/hate in his eyes when he saw her. Only a man spurned in love and life could be that angry and that in love at the same time.

Damien would never call himself a deep and meaningful kind of guy, but he would be the first to tell someone that anger is only a mask to hide love. Only when you love that much can you hate and feel that much.

Whatever happened between the Eagle and the woman tending to Eric in front of him was more hurtful to both than a stampeding Spectran Mecha over the downtown core. Something warned him that her gorgeous little baby had almost everything to do with it.

Barron's voice crackled over static and drew Damien's thoughts away from the Soap Opera in his mind. "Damn it, Knight. What happened in there?"

He almost wished he could thumb his nose in arrogance, but couldn't being that it was attached to a broken arm. "What the fuck do you think happened, Sarge? The damn thing went boom!"

Barron's response was dry, bland, "Gee, really? I honestly never would have guessed it."

Damien sucked air in through his teeth as the pain from a large piece of shrapnel in his leg shot up into his groin. "Fuck, Sarge. Can we analyze what happened later? We've got injuries in here."

"How's the integrity of the building, Knight? Are we safe to get a medic team in …" He seemed to pull his attention away from the microphone to talk to someone else. He was heard to grunt an unpleasantry before coming back to task. "How's Anderson?"

A brow on Damien's forehead bumped its way to a high arc. "Let me guess, you've got an Eagle there demanding answers?"

"And a Condor, Owl, Swallow and Falcon."

"The whole fuckin' team?"

His eyes flashed to Princess, who, although she appeared distracted by tending to her unconscious teammate, was listening intently to the broadcast. "How you doing … Princess?" He was slow and careful to use the name she used previous to her current life. He hoped to get confirmation of his suspicions almost immediately.

…And she didn't let him down.

"I haven't been called that in a long time."

He sighed in disappointment. "You and I really need to talk when we get out of here." He waited for her to nod. "Are you okay?"

"Tell the team I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle." She licked at her bruised lip. "Eric needs help, though."

"Tell the birds that the only critical injury seems to be Eric. Me and Miss Secretive are bruised and battered, but okay."

She didn't look at him as she pointed at his arm. "You've got complete fractures of the ulna and radius, Damien. You also have a concussion and a five-inch piece of steel hanging out of your leg. You need a bus as quickly as Eric does."

He shook his head. "Too much to do in here, Cass. We've got a whole scene to process."

"Which the CSI team can do." She tied off a tourniquet around Eric's upper thigh. "Right now, we've got about five minutes before the roof collapses onto our heads."

The groan of a splintered beam struggling against its own weight forced the two of them to silence and look up. Damien turned his mouth back to his mic. "Ahh shit, Sarge. Looks like part two of the explosion is imminent."

Princess worked as frantically as she could to attempt to stabilize Eric. He wasn't going to make it, she knew that, but although she knew her attention would be in vain, she couldn't bring herself to leave him here.

"Come on, Eric. You hold on, d'ya hear me?"

Her voice seemed to awaken the young man, and his eyes fluttered under his lids. "Cass-s-s …"

She smiled warmly, letting her eyes close over her tears. "Hey there, Eric, honey. Look at you all inducted into the field unit."

Eric gave the smallest of laughs that ended up as a series of wet coughs. "I messed up, didn't I?"

She shook her head, trying hard not to let her panic at the fresh blood on his lips from coughing show to him. "No, honey. You did good. I'm so proud of you."

He gingerly raised his hand and fingered at a curl of her hair that had fallen in front of her face. "Liar." His eyes closed slowly over his hurt as he realized in just how bad a condition he was in. If she was hovering over him like this, then he must be in worse physical shape than he thought he was. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

She inhaled long and let a tear roll down her cheek as she shook her head. "No Eric. We're going to get you out of here, and you'll be back searching for the bad guys in no time."

Behind her Damien bit on his lips. His eyes saw the limp lower half of his colleague's body and the pool of thick, red blood around Princess' knees and feet. He looked toward the doorway in search of the emergency crews he knew wouldn't arrive until after he'd given the all clear.

"Cass," he croaked softly. "We need to move him out of here."

She shook her head. "We can't move him, Damien."

"We have no choice Cass. This place is crumbling."

She cupped Eric's face in her hands. "I'm not leaving him. You go if you have to, but I can't."

"Not without you, partner." He dropped gingerly to his knees beside her and set his hand on her shoulder. "We'll go down together."

The beam above their heads moaned painfully and let free some large chunks of drywall. The plaster pieces smashed loudly onto the floor in front of them, only inches from their critically injured team mate.

Eric gasped and coughed again. "Cassie, Damien. Don't stay because of me, okay? You two need to get out. I'll be okay."

She pursed her lips and let out a small breath to shush him. "Don't worry about that roof, Eric. It'll hold out until the medics arrive."

"Shouldn't they already be in here?" he asked weakly. "Or do they know we're about to be entombed in the wreckage of a warehouse?"

"They're pussies," she whispered with a smile. "Not tough like us."

"Yeah," Damien added. "Ever since 9/11, they're all too scared to walk in to a building these days."

"Not funny," Princess corrected him as she slowly removed her flak jacket to place under Eric's head. "I don't think I've ever told you, Eric, just how much I enjoy working with you."

He smiled and coughed again. He didn't feel the colour on his face draining to an ashen blue, but he shuddered with cold. "Now I know I'm a goner."

"Shh," she breathed, pressing her finger lightly against his lips. "Don't talk like that. You're tough, you're young, you'll pull through this, and in a little while we'll be joking about it over drinks at O'Malley's."

He raised his hand to hold hers, and pressed her fingers to his lips to kiss them. "Cassie. Before I die, I do need to tell you something."

She shook her head. "No, Eric. Don't give up on me. Save what you need to say for when I take you to dinner after all this."

He smiled as warmly as he could and blinked lazy eyes at her. "Cassie. I love you. I never told you, and you'd never have noticed. But I wish for just one second that you could have …" he had to stop to cough again. "I wished that you and I …"

"Eric," she begged as she let her tears roll heavily down her cheeks. "Please don't."

"I'll watch over you, I promise …"

She shook her head. "Eric. Please no."

There was no response from him to her plea. His eyes, open and glassy, stared at her in contentment as his last breath escaped noisily through his parted lips.

"Oh God," she sobbed as she searched his neck, and then his wrist, for a pulse. "No Eric. Don't do this. Don't die on me."

Damien shed a tear of his own and turned his head to speak solemnly into his communicator. "Sarge. It's Knight."

The walkie talkie crackled with static as Barron answered the phone. "Are you guys coming out or what, Knight?"

Damien vainly attempted to ignore Princess sobbing into Eric's chest when he spoke and actually stammered through his own pain and sadness when he answered. "Officer down, Sir."

"God no," he responded. "Which one?"

He barely had time to open his mouth before a flurry of activity at the hole in the wall sent him shuffling backward toward Princess, who had frantically begun CPR on her dead teammate. "What the fuck?"

"Tiny, brace that beam. Lisa, Keyop, check for secondary explosives, Jason, look for assailants and neutralize all threats," Mark's voice ordered inside the din. "And get moving, we don't have much time before this place collapses."

Damien's eyes were wide and stunned at the blur of colours as the team immediately dispersed to follow the orders of their Commander. There wasn't argument or question, each did exactly what they were told.

It wasn't until he heard the sobbing pleas of his partner that he took his attentions off the G-Force team, and back to his own. His heart broke at the sight of the woman who he thought was the strongest he'd ever met.

She was a broken mess, covered in blood, soot, plaster powder and dirt, as she continually attempted to resuscitate Eric.

"Eric, please. Please wake up. You can't die," she chanted over and over between administering mouth to mouth and compressing his chest. "I won't let you die."

Damien tried to reach out to her. He lightly touched his hand to her shoulder. "Cassie. He's gone, honey."

"No," she breathed desperately. "No. I won't let him die. We all walk out of here together, as a team."

"Cass. Come on. This place is going to collapse, we have to get out of here."

"No!" she snapped at him, pausing in her actions for only long enough to fire him a deathly glare. "I won't leave without him. I won't leave a teammate."

He tried to coax her away from him. "Cass. Come on. We can't do anything for him."

She growled dangerously and used both, bloody, hands to shove him off her. "I. Said. No. Leave if you want to, but I stay!"

Damien fell backward onto his rump and let out a sharp cry as his broken arm collided with the floor. "Cassandra. This is stupid!"

"Detective Knight," Mark's voice softly spoke from in front of where Princess knelt on the floor. "I'll get her out of here, please get yourself to safety."

Damien shook his head well aware of the tension between his partner and the Eagle. "Not without her, Commander."

Mark gave a gentle nod and slowly lowered himself to a crouch in front of where Princess was still trying to revive Eric. He watched her for a short moment and set his gloved hand on top of hers. "Princess. It's over, sweetheart. Let him go."

She shook her head and continued without looking at him. "He can't die, Mark. I won't let it happen."

"You need to get out of here."

She shook her head and paused only long enough to wipe at her eyes with the back of her bloody hand. "Together, Mark. A team leaves together. You taught me that so you should understand."

"Then let me take him out of here," he urged. "I'll be right behind you, he'll be right behind you. I promise. But you need to get out of here. Tiny can only hold up that beam for so long."

She finally raised her face to look into the blue eyes she missed so desperately for so long. "He was just a kid, Mark. It's not fair."

He held back his horror at seeing her blood-smeared, tear stained face, and instead raised his hand to cup lovingly at her chin. "I know, Princess. But there's nothing else we can do for him. Let him go."

"It's not that easy, Mark."

He felt his heart break at her misery, but still maintained his composure. "I know, Princess. Trust me, I know."

She gazed up at him from her crumpled position, her eyes pleading with him to let her continue. The warmth, empathy and familiarity of his returning gaze finally broke her, and she reached up to pull herself across Eric's body to crush herself to him.

"It's not fair!" she screamed loudly as she punched once into his chest and then finally collapsed against him.

He returned her embrace with as much ferocity as she did him.

"No, Princess. It's not."

She didn't feel him lift her from the ground and into a cradle-hold against his chest, but she felt his heartbeat and controlled breaths.

It was as comforting as she remembered, and she didn't want to let him put her down.

"Mark …" she sighed gently as she nestled in closer to his chest.

Mark, still maintaining the composure of the Commander of G-Force, held her close and turned to his second. "Jason, can you?"

Jason gave a firm nod and flicked his hand to Lisa to ask her to help him with Eric's body, not needing to hear the remainder of the request.

Mark was respectful to let Damien leave the rubble ahead of his own team. He was at least three steps behind him, and paused beside him as Jason and Lisa, sans G-Force wings, which had been used to cover the body of the fallen, carried Eric's body out first.

Damien saluted his teammate as his body passed him and lowered his head respectfully as paramedics and fellow officers swarmed him. He barely had a chance to glance back at Princess as he was led into a waiting ambulance.

Mark wasn't surprised to find himself similarly accosted by medical personnel as they tried to pry the woman in his arms away from him. He heard her give the smallest whimper and found himself only holding on to her more protectively.

"Commander," one of them probed gently. "We really need to take Detective Anderson back to the hospital for a check up."

He shook his head firmly. "She'll return to Centre Neptune with me. I can assure you she'll receive appropriate medical attention at that facility."

The paramedic frowned. "That's unnecessary. She needs to be with her team right now."

Mark grunted. "Yes, she does."

Thinking the Eagle was about to release the woman, the paramedic smiled and held out his arms. He was stunned when Mark simply walked past them toward the G-2, where the other four members of G-Force were waiting.

"Commander?"

Princess remained settled against her ex-lover's chest, basically ignoring all else, until she heard the cry of her partner as the paramedics attempted to set his broken arm and dislocated shoulder. She immediately struggled.

"Damien. Mark, I have to go," she mumbled hurriedly, fighting against Mark's hold.

"No, Princess. He's fine."

She fell from his arms, onto her knees, and winced as she drew herself to a shaky stand. "I have to go with him – he's my partner."

Mark grabbed her upper arm and tilted his head questioningly at her. "Princess. He's going to be fine. He's in good hands, now. You need to come with us."

She shook her head and stepped a single stride back from him. "No. Mark. I should be at his side. He doesn't have anyone – his girlfriend walked out on him, his parents are in a different state, he's only got me."

A hurt look briefly crossed his features at her urgency to be at Damien's side. "That scenario sounds very familiar."

She gaped her mouth at him. "Mark, this is different. This isn't about you and I. This …"

"Is exactly the same," he finished for her, barely flinching at the sound of the building only a handful of metres away from them collapsing into broken rubble. "It was easy for you to walk out on me …"

She shuddered at the sound, and at the reality that she could have been in there for the collapse, but continued to step away. "I have to be there for him."

He took her wrist in his and gruffly tugged her a few inches closer to him. "Did I ever mean anything to you, Princess?"

She blinked in shock at the question and tilted her head with a frown. "What?"

"Did you ever love me?"

She looked at him in complete confusion, and took a moment to look to Jason for confirmation of the question before she looked down where their hands were joined. "Of course," she answered softly as she tugged her wrist free of his hold. "I loved you …" She hiccupped and looked back up into his face. "Love you more than my own existence."

"Then how could you do it?"

She turned to the side and shook her head, answering as if he should have known the answer to the question.

"To protect you."

She abruptly ended any further conversation by jogging over to where Damien was fighting the paramedics to leave him alone.

As she boarded the ambulance, she stopped in the doorway and turned back to G-Force, and Mark. She smiled at them before being closed in by the paramedics.

Mark looked at the departing ambulance and felt his heart dip in his chest.

How could a woman so brilliant be so desperately dumb?

His head turned to Jason when he felt his second's hand on his shoulder.

"I'm never going to see her again, am I?"

Jason shrugged. "I don't know, Mark."

He sighed. "For a moment there … I didn't hate her any more, Jase."

"That's because you don't."

"God. I miss her … I need her."

Jason nodded. "Then take off that stupid uniform and go get her."

~O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O~

The final rays of sunlight for the evening kissed at the brow of her infant daughter as Princess rocked her to sleep in an old wicker rocking chair beside her crib. The light was enough to make the young baby frown in her sleep, which Princess smoothed out with her lips as she gently kissed her goodnight

She held her little girl closer into her chest and felt the subtle rise and fall of her daughter's chest and looked back on her "rough" day at work.

And what a day…

Kharma always suggested that bad luck ran in threes. Today was most definitely testament to that. First, a confrontation with the man she loved. Second the unfortunate detonation of an explosive that should have been no more than a routine disarming. Finally, there was the death of a close colleague.

As far as days went this was as bad as it got.

She let a single tear fall from her cheek onto Amanda's forehead. The light tickle made her shift gently in her arms and open her mouth to gulp in a deep breath. Within a second she was back into her deep sleep. Trying not to wake her again, Princess stood from the chair and placed her gently into her crib.

"Sleep well, Mandy," she whispered softly as she smoothed his whisper-soft hair on her brow. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

With silence practiced from years of covert operations, she walked into the kitchen and opened her fridge.

Bumping into Mark today wasn't something that she could say was unexpected. With Jason and Lisa circling her in previous days, and working beside her G-Force replacement, meeting Mark was fairly inevitable. What was unexpected was his anger…

Like, who in the Hell did he think he was?

Who was he to be angry with her?

She was the one who had the right to be mad; She was the one who was mistreated throughout their relationship and then was humiliated, fooled around on, then left with a young child to raise alone.

He should be down on his knees begging her to forgive him!

Damn him!

She tugged up the shoulder of her blue boat-neck sweater and reached into the fridge for a Smirnoff Ice cooler. She stared at the frosty liquid in the bottle as she continued to let her mind work through things.

Mark should have been thankful that she kept his daughter safe and did everything she could to ensure she was fed, clothed, housed and loved. Her child had everything she needed and then some – she even denied herself her small pleasures, and sometimes a meal, just to make sure she were treated as she should be … as the child of the Eagle should be.

The reference in her mind to the Eagle made Princess hiccup and blink to bring her senses back into the now.

She was more than the daughter of Mark Cronus. She was the sire of the G-Force Commander. The Eagle.

She blinked then looked down, wide-eyed, at the tiled floor.

The Eagle's child should have constant protective presence at all times.

She was a target.

She quickly glanced back at Amanda's room and squinted to peer through the slightly ajar door.

Okay. She was okay. Okay. Hell, she was once the Swan. She was more than capable of protecting her baby. She would kill herself to ensure her safety.

With a matter-of-fact nod of the head, she twisted open the bottle of vodka and took a long draw back on it.

Yes. She would die before she'd let her get hurt – Because that's what mothers did.

She pursed her lips and strolled to the window of her lounge room. She inhaled a long breath and took a seat on the wide ledge to look out into the street.

If the enemy thought she was a lethal opponent before, just wait until they encountered her now …

Her eyes fell to the flashing red lights of a speeding police car on the rain-wet road below, and her lips pursed proudly at her colleagues. No matter what the danger her fellow officers would put themselves out there for the better good.

Much like G-Force.

She looked away from the window and gazed sadly at the ratted carpet on her floor. One denim-covered leg bent upward so that she could nestle her chin into her knee and embrace her leg in her arms. Her cheeks were tight with drying tears, and eyes were wide as they dryly stared into nothing.

She thought that by staying away from Mark and G-Force and the dangers associated with the job was protecting her daughter. Losing the guarantee of one day orphaning her child because of battle was one of the main motivating factors behind it; but she ended up pretty much ensuring the same fate by falling into an almost identical profession.

In-Fact, she was probably at a higher risk of dying working with the Bomb Squad than with G-Force. Mark, Jason and the boys were always standing in between she and death – they'd never let her die. As much as she counted on her fellow officers, they were unlikely to take the same stance with her.

Her other knee snapped up to her chest as her back straightened into a bolt-upright position. Both her hands flew to her mouth in realization of what she had done and was doing.

She'd put herself and her child at more risk by working with the enforcement teams, and living in a "fixed income" apartment complex. And in doing so denied her and her father the right to …

She gulped deep to swallow a sob and inhaled hard enough to vacuum her hand to her mouth and nose.

"Oh God," she groaned miserably. "What have I done?"

She felt the trickle of a tear roll over her fingers and gazed down at her cordless phone at her toes. Perhaps it was time to call her ex and arrange an introduction with his child.

Her hand shook as she leaned down and picked up the phone. Her breath held as she tapped in a familiar number not used in well over a year. She brought it to her ear and heard the first ring on the receiving end. Immediately she gasped and quickly hung up before he could pick up.

"What do I say?" she asked herself quietly as she stared at the backlit screen as it quickly darkened. "Hi Mark, I know it's been a while, and you probably have a new girlfriend and life, but I want to know if you'll let me disrupt it but offering to introduce you to your kid."

She laughed inside her own tears at the absurdity of it. Why was she feeling so timid about this? Sure, he was mad; he hated her; but this was Mark. Mark. Mark…

Mark …

She closed her eyes at the memory of him and how he loved, and smiled. "I can do this," she whispered as she wiped at her eye with the back of her hand and hit redial.

She heard his soft-recorded voice request she leave a message and took a breath to do so. "Hi Mark. It's Princess." She sighed. "We really need to meet and talk about…" There was a loud chime of a dying doorbell, which halted her mid-message. Instinct made her eyes flick to the Felix-the-Cat clock on the wall. It was 10:35pm – Not the time for visitors. She closed a hand into a relaxed fist against her lips as she fell into silence at the window. She hoped the uninvited would assume she was asleep and leave her alone.

The bell rang again; this time with much more urgency.

She bit on the right side of her bottom lip and silently turned to let her feet touch quietly to the floor, setting the phone on the backrest of the couch. Her eyes slid cautiously along the side table at the door for weaponry as she approached.

Damien would still be in the hospital. Cronus wouldn't even knock. She knew none of her neighbours well enough for casual visits, and G-Force had no idea where she lived. That had to mean that this visitor was likely someone she really didn't want to see.

"Who is it?" She questioned timidly, unable to check as her peephole had long been covered with masking tape after being broken three months ago.

There was no answer beyond another chime of the bell.

Princess' hair stood on end. She had a bad feeling about the person on the other side of the door, but couldn't ignore it lest the chiming wake her baby. She splayed her fingers on the table and found her keys. She closed her fingers around them and shakily raised her hand to the door handle.

With a deep breath, she opened the door.

The identity of the caller made her jump backward in shock and expel a startled yelp of terror.

"Anson!"

Several green-dressed goons flanked Anson, who stood boldly in front of them with his face tilted so he looked across his cheek at her at her.

"Hello Princess," Anson breathed as he raised his face to look down his nose at her. "Long time no see."

Her eyes flicked to Amanda's room and then back to the group at the door. Her breathing came in panicked pants as she backed up toward the couch. "Not here, Anson. Not now."

He pursed his lips and slid his eyes up and down her body. "Why not?"

She shook her head and stumbled against the cushion of the couch. "Just not here. If you want to kill me, beat me, or whatever, then fine, but not here."

"Why?" he asked quietly. "Might we wake the baby?"

"Leave her out of this."

"I'm afraid not," he smirked as he clicked his fingers to the goons behind him. "She's why we're here."

The goons silently filled the room and stood with puffed, obedient-style chests poses waiting for command.

Princess panted and shook her head, terrified and wondering when her protective instinct was going to kick in and give her the ability to beat each and every person in the room to a bloody pulp. "If you even think of touching her, Anson, I'll kill you."

"Ahh," he hummed with an open mouth, "the thought was made a long time ago. And don't worry. I'm not here to hurt her, I just want to borrow her a while – for the rest of Mark's life." He turned his head to the goons behind him. "Go get her."

Princess' head ticked to one side. Within a whisper of a heartbeat, she let out a loud yell and leapt from her position at the window toward the baby's room. "No! I won't let you take her."

Anson set his hands on his hips and laughed as she pressed her back against the door and shook her head to deny the goons entry to the nursery. "You don't stand a chance, Princess. Save us the time, and your death, and just give her up."

She slid down into a crouch and readied to face the ten-or-so men in front of her. "I'll die before you touch her."

He shrugged. "Then sobeit. Guards, kill her."

Her lip curled as she let out a low growl. She felt a shift inside her as she counted off the guns and weapons in front of her. Knowing instinct had finally come to play, she twisted one shoulder and launched herself at the goon in front.

Her mouth opened with the hit of her shoulder into his chest and called out a phrase she'd not used in a long time.

"Mark! Help me!"