She cast her eyes up to the tenth floor, where she knew a battle was about to take place; a battle of one protective mother against 13 men.
She hadn't wanted to go up there and play as Mala had ordered; she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had no real issue with attempting to do painful things to the ex-Swan and humiliating her big brother. That was easy, and likely a lot of fun.
What she was having trouble stomaching was the involvement of the baby. She was, after all, her niece. She was an innocent in all of this.
It wasn't cool.
She chewed on a fingernail as she stared up at the balcony she assumed belonged to Princess. She'd jumped the nail-biting hurdle in her 16th year of life, and had rare relapses only during times of stress and self-loathe. Right now, she'd managed to bite her thumbnail down to the quick. She could taste the blood on the tip of her tongue.
Why did she bring up the baby to Mala and Zoltar? What did she think was going to happen; that Mala and Zoltar would simply congratulate her on becoming an aunt and forget about it?
Of course not.
Of course they'd find a way to exploit the information to defeat G-Force.
She spat a piece of bloody nail from her mouth and went right back to gnawing on it.
Curse her and her bravado, her need to be the big one on campus with all the information and know-how. Now she'd put an innocent little child in danger and likely killed their mother.
She cast her eyes to the back seat of her Denali, where an Alpha-Omega car seat was installed.
She'd at least make sure she were as safe as possible while in Spectran hands.
~O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O~
"Take a left here, man."
Mark shifted his eyes from the road and looked toward Damien in the passenger seat. He'd actually taken Jason up on his suggestion of going after Princess to have a talk through things, but had twice gone to the wrong hospital in search of her. When he finally did get the right one, Princess had already left, and Damien was being discharged.
Being that he was a considerate softy when in the presence of someone hurt on the field of battle, he offered the young man a ride home. Obviously Damien was more than grateful to accept an offer of a ride from the G-Force Eagle.
He'd done little more than yak about everything and nothing since he climbed into the car.
Mark didn't mind so much. Damien seemed to be a trustworthy and honest kind of guy who was close to Princess, enough to want to keep she and the baby safe from harm.
"So down to business then, Commander," Damien finally uttered upon realizing Mark wasn't really in to small talk.
The side of Mark's mouth twitched. "What business might that be, Damien?"
"Cassandra," he said simply, no longer interested in beating the bush, so to speak.
Mark blinked slowly, but kept focus on the road. "I'm really not sure that's any of your business."
"Yeah it is," he countered as he leaned forward to adjust the air conditioning temperature. "See. She's my partner…"
"Which makes it your business, how?"
Damien smiled and raised a palm to Mark to ask him to hold off on talking for a moment. "I dunno how it works in G-Force, but in …" he smirked and nodded his head in a silent chuckle, "In B-Force.."
Mark slid his eyes to him and groaned painfully at the lame attempt at joke. "That's bad, man."
"Uh –uh, anyway. In my unit - in the whole force actually - partners are … well they're family. More than family. A man's partner is like the left side of his brain. Your reliance on them surpasses anything else. More than an infant's need for his mother, a man relies on his partner."
Mark's brow rose high, but he let him continue.
"Anyway. Cass and I have been through a lot. She's pulled me from the fire, held my back, and been there when I needed to fall apart. I've helped her through trials and hardships, taken shrapnel for her and been her ear when she needed to let it out." He folded his arms across his chest and slouched in the seat. "There's love and trust there, man. It might not be what you had with her …"
"Have," Mark corrected softly. "Have with her. Just because we're apart doesn't mean I don't …"
"Then where have you been?"
Mark's brow rose. "Excuse me?"
Damien looked squarely at Mark. "Where have you been? She needs help, man, and she's not getting it."
Mark curled a lip. "Ask her why."
"She's a clam when I ask about you."
He let out a long breath. "So you knew about me, then?"
"Not that you were the Eagle. But I know whoever it was she walked out on meant a hell of a lot more to her than. Well, than…"
"It's a long story."
Damien tilted his head and cast his gaze to the road. "I get that you don't want to go into detail. But I have to know one thing before I tell you how to find her."
"What?"
"Did you ever strike her?"
The answer was immediate and darkly sincere. "No."
Damien seemed to be content with that answer. "Good, because I'll let you in on a little fact. You hurt her in any way from this moment on; you'll have an entire police force on your doorstep that won't be worrying about warrants."
Mark actually smiled. "I'll remember that."
"And," he added with a serious expression, but a joking tone of voice, "I have access to explosives that make even your Falcon purr …so…"
"Yeah yeah," Mark laughed. "I hear you."
"Seriously, Mark. She and the little girl, they're special."
They pulled up at a red light and Mark nodded. "Which is why I love her like I do."
The loud ringing of his cell-phone through the car stereo system made both men jump. Mark quickly leaned down to press the answer button. "Damn thing, always rings at the most inopportune moments." He pressed the button. "Mark speaking."
Damien laughed. "So formal."
Mark shifted his eyes up at his passenger in disapproval and clicked his cheek when the only answer he received was the beeping of a disconnect signal. "Damn hang-ups."
"Telemarketers," Damien flatly remarked. "Happens at home all the time. I'd figure you guys would be on some brilliant do not call provider or something."
Mark sat back up and pressed his foot on the accelerator to get moving again. "If I used the Federation phone, yeah. That damn thing is still in its box on top of my desk. I've had this one since I was eighteen, same number, same provider. I actually prefer it."
Damien shrugged. "Hey, I'm with you on that. The things they have out now you need a damn PhD in order to use it. Just give me an old basic Motorola that does nothing but make phone calls, and I'm fine."
Mark smirked and pointed at the old basic Motorola sitting in its holder on his dashboard. "That we definitely agree on."
The phone began to ring again. Rather than answering another hang-up, Mark just chose to ignore it. "If it's important, leave a message."
"What if it's a hot looking chick you handed your number to at the bar?"
"The only hot looking chick I have ever given this number to is Princess."
Damien smirked and leaned forward with a squint to read the call display. "And speak of the devil. That's Cassie's number."
His eyes widened and he practically skidded the car sideways as he slammed his foot on the brake. He fumbled trying to find the answer button. "Hello? Hello?"
Damien laughed as he flicked Mark's hand away from the phone to casually answer it. "Gee. Cool under pressure? Not."
His efforts were rewarded with the beep of the dial tone.
Mark groaned long. "Damn. Please, Prin. Please leave me a message."
"Don't worry, she's a message box whore, trust me. She'll leave you something long-winded. I've lost count of the times she's used up the full three minute message limit, then had to call back three times."
Mark smirked through his own disappointment. "Yeah, she's left me messages like that before."
Damien frowned a little. "You know. It sounds to me like you and she were pretty tight. What happened to split you up?"
Mark shook his head and pursed his lips. "I really don't want to talk about it."
He shrugged. "Well. Whatever it was, I hope the two of you can work through it."
"Me too," he sighed as he dropped his eyes to the phone when it beeped receipt of a message. "He leaned forward and tapped through the menu to retrieve it. Her unsure, but soft, voice made him smile.
"Hi Mark. It's Princess. We really need to meet and talk about…"In the background he could hear her doorbell chime, and then relative silence and the distinct silence of someone holding their breath. The strangeness of her reaction raised a brow on his head and he looked across at Damien only to see the young man held the exact same expression.
Neither man actually said a word as they both listened hard.
For more concentration, Mark pulled off the road and killed the engine. He turned the volume to full and carefully undid his seatbelt.
The bell rang again, and Princess' breath was heard to expel and hold again.
Mark knew that sound intimately. Princess was worried about who was beyond the door.
"Damien, are you good to drive?"
Damien had already unfastened his seatbelt. "Cast or no cast, man. It's faster if I get us there."
As the sound of the phone being set on a soft surface loudly crackled through the speakers, Damien opened his door and rushed around to the driver's side. Mark slid across the center console to take up a chauffeured position.
Her timid question quietly called through the phone. "Who is it."
Damien quickly snapped on his seatbelt. "We good?"
Mark nodded and leaned closer to speaker to hear. "Get me there, Damien. Don't mess around."
Damien threw the car in to gear. "Then hold on tight, man."
The next time they heard her voice it was a frightened yelp. "Anson!"
Mark's eyes flared. "He's out?"
"Who's Anson?"
Mark didn't answer. He raised his communicator to his mouth and called to his team. "This is G-1 to all members of G-Force. This is a code red emergency, please respond."
He was vaguely aware of the four return calls from his team. His attention was more on the conversation going on through the phone.
"Hello Princess. Long time no see."
"Not here, Anson. Not now."
"Why not?""Just not here. If you want to kill me, beat me, or whatever, then fine, but not here."
Mark's breath drew in fast and exhaled in a threatening grunt. "Can you drive any faster?"
Damien floored the accelerator and swiftly pulled his cell-phone off his belt. Doubling as a walkie talkie, he lifted it to his mouth. "I'll call for back-up."
"I'd appreciate it," Mark snarled. He lifted his wrist to his mouth. "All members of G-Force are on alert. Princess is under attack team. Follow my signal for rendezvous."
The conversation continued.
"Why? Might we wake the baby?"
"Leave her out of this."
"I'm afraid not. She's why we're here."
Mark punched at he dash. "Dammit. That's low, even for them!"
Damien hissed another request for assistance into his phone. "Who are "they" Mark?"
"Spectra."
"If you even think of touching her, Anson, I'll kill you."
"Ahh, 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. Go get them."
"No! I won't let you take her."
"You don't stand a chance, Princess. Save us the time, and your death, and just give her up."
Mark felt his heart drop at the repeated clicking sounds from cocking weapons through the phone. "God. Damien, hurry, please!"
"I'm doing the best I can, Man. If you'd gone speed over torque, we might have had a better chance."
"I didn't pick the vehicle. It's Federation issue."
"Look, there's a black and white, I'll use it as a dozer. Just hang on, man."
Mark raised his eyes to a police vehicle in response mode, and gave a nod. His eyes dropped to the phone and the ongoing trauma the mother of his child was going through. "Hold on, Princess. We're coming."
"I'll die before you touch her."
"Then sobeit. Guards, kill her."
There was a grunt, and a scuffle. Then a cried request that seemed to tear his heart from his chest.
"Mark! Help me!"As if a season finale of a favourite TV show ending in a cliffhanger, the phone message line cut dead.
"Princess? Princess!" Mark pulled the phone roughly from the holder and held it to his ear. He yelled her name again and threw it at the dash when he realized it had cut. It had to be almost five minutes since she left the message. He prayed she was able to hold them off for his arrival.
"Damien. Tell me we're nearly there."
Damien pointed to a fast approaching apartment building. "That complex over there. I need another thirty seconds, Mark."
Mark curled a lip and ducked his head. "Which floor?"
"Tenth. The balcony with the pink railing is hers."
"Tenth, pink railing. Got it." Her rounded his arms and transformed into the Eagle. He lifted his arms to open the sun-roof to his car and hauled himself up through the top. "Keep the speed, Damien," he ordered firmly. "I need the resistance."
"What?" He tried to keep the concentration on the road. "What the Hell are you doing?"
"They want my attention. They've got it," he answered as he held firm onto his wings and prepared to leap upward. "I'll die before they do."