You Owe Me

by njborba

Steve thinks he's finally ready for a future with Catherine, but nothing goes as planned.

20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Hawaii Five-0.

I'm sorry this story has turned into such a beast. I probably owe you all snacks and massive amounts of your life back. Thanks for sticking with me. Please enjoy!

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You Owe Me
Part 20

By
N. J. Borba

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She felt herself nodding off, head lolling forward slowly. Then a sudden jolt of wakefulness caused her to sit bolt upright.

The pattern repeated several times until she finally put an end to it. Catherine grabbed hold of her camouflage pack and slung it over her left shoulder as she stood in the same quick motion. Her legs protested a little, muscles slightly numb from sitting for so long. She took several long strides, stretching as she walked. Catherine rubbed her eyes while walking through the throng of people. She finally focused on her surroundings, hoping a look around would make the time pass quicker.

The airport's international terminal was gorgeous.

Massive tree-trunk-like columns branched upward toward a honeycomb structured ceiling - a canopy that was sturdy yet delicate like lace. Columns and ceiling were all a bright, crisp white. The floors were also a soft pale color and nearly blinding, the shiniest smooth texture she'd ever seen. Everything was sleek and polished, clean lines, glass and concrete comingling in a cohesive design. It was modern yet comfortable and inviting.

She made her way to the restroom and shimmied into the narrow space, plain white wall on one side and a bank of stalls to her right. Not terribly fancy, but clean and functional.

After the first short flight from the carrier she'd changed into a knee-length skirt, modest and comfy, cotton the color of a calm turquoise ocean.

Her shirt was also simple, white cotton, short sleeved, ruched V-neck.

She had her hair down. It drifted across her shoulders, free from the usual tight bun she wore for uniform regulations.

Catherine washed her hands and then took an extra second to splash some cold water on her cheeks in an attempt to wake up a little more. An older woman behind her tapped an impatient foot against the tile floor and huffed. Catherine could see the woman's slight glower through the long horizontal mirror that spanned the counter. She had dark, age-worn and sun-drenched, skin. But she looked like the sort of sweet old woman who'd happily sell you fruit at an outdoor market.

Apparently her sweetness didn't extend to being patient while waiting to wash her hands.

"Mujhe maaf kar do… sorry," Catherine apologized in two languages while stepping aside to allow the woman access to the sink. She couldn't really fault someone for wanting to be cleanly. And even though there were nearly two dozen stalls and almost as many sinks, there were still more people than sinks, which was creating a line.

It was a huge and bustling airport.

Catherine exited the restroom with her pack re-slung over one shoulder. She glanced at her watch and a small smile crept over her face. Only about an hour longer and she could collect what she'd been waiting for and then finally relax during her much needed leave. She walked the terminal some more, considered eating a snack but decided to wait, flipped through a few magazines at a shop. Bought a bottle of water and sipped it slowly.

Another glance at her watch caused a bigger smile to bloom. She made her way back to the gate and the bench where she'd nearly nodded off earlier.

A friendly female voice spoke in three different languages over the intercom system, all repeating the flight arrival information.

It was another few minutes before the gate opened and still several more minutes before passengers began to disembark. Families came through the gate, parents with groups of two or three children with them. A business man carried a briefcase and glanced up at the baggage claim sign. He was followed by several more men in similar dark suits, carrying similar black briefcases. A couple of young men in Western attire appeared, beards grown in, rumpled clothing and large backpacks, probably half way through a year abroad.

She waited and watched, scanning the crowd for a long time. There were more families, and more business men, more tourists.

"Where the heck are you?" Catherine wondered just before he appeared.

Steve stepped through the gate walking alongside a young woman in a plum-purple sari. She had a rolling suitcase, another bag cinched over her left shoulder and a baby slung across her dainty chest. Three more young children trailed her, one of which Steve was helping with his rolling bag. Catherine watched as Steve smiled and said something to the woman that she couldn't hear. The young mother nodded several times and smiled brightly as Steve waved goodbye to the family.

He turned and spotted her almost instantly.

Catherine made her way through a small group of people and stood in front of him.

"Hey, you," he greeted her with both arms wrapped around her waist and his lips pressed softly against hers.

It wasn't a long kiss, just enough to convey how happy they each were to see each other.

She took a tiny step backward and noticed he was wearing black cargo pants, navy-blue t-shirt with a charcoal gray button shirt over the top, though it wasn't buttoned. He was clean shaven and wore a content smile. He looked relaxed and glad to see her. He looked the same as usual - her Steve. "Hi," Catherine smiled.

He pulled back a little and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Missed you," Steve said, as simply as if he were still saying hello.

She liked that one arm stayed at her waist as they began to walk toward the exit, the crowd somewhat pushing them along. Catherine recalled the last time he'd said those same words, the two of them curled up in his bed, a tangle of arms and legs, naked flesh upon naked flesh. He'd said he'd missed her. Hearing it then had been nice, but she'd figured it had been a fluke, a one-time slip of emotion. Hearing it now made her stomach flop like a little kid on Christmas morning.

It felt like a pattern. And patterns were traditions. Traditions meant there was history between them. And she liked to believe history meant commitment.

Commitment for her was accompanied by another emotion she couldn't help feel, but refrained from saying.

"I missed you, too," she finally replied. Catherine realized in that moment she was okay with his 'missed you'. She didn't need I love you. She felt it, and she suspected he felt it and that was enough for now. Her eyes closed briefly as he guided them. His strong arm still clutched at her waist. She recalled their last embrace, the one in his office at Five-0 headquarters right after she'd told him about being sent back to the Gulf. That had been a hard goodbye. They all seemed harder than the one before.

But they'd made a plan and they'd stuck to it.

"I like when we make plans," Catherine grinned, eyes wide again; wider than they'd been all day.

"Me, too," he agreed. "And I have a plan for this weekend," Steve added. He walked them to the car rental stand and handled all the arrangements. He loaded their meager belongings into a compact two-door and drove, not telling her anything about where they were headed.

"Give me a clue," she practically begged, window rolled down, warm air against her right cheek. "I don't really like surprises."

"Too bad," Steve remained silent on the details.

Catherine sat back and tried to relax. She watched as Mumbai flew past them in a whirlwind of activity. From the window she could see the streets lined with vendors, a hectic mass of cars and rickshaws, people on foot, folks cycling. Kids running, leaping, laughing and helping parents sell goods. Then she noticed that Steve had taken a turn which was heading them somewhat away from the city, to the north. She was about to ask where they were headed when she watched him turn and shake his head at her.

"You're cruel," she shot at him.

"You need to learn patients," he replied, seeming to enjoy her discomfort.

"So going months in between seeing you isn't patient of me?" Catherine retorted. "Talking to you on the phone about how you nearly died in North Korea again, or hearing about missing out on Chin's wedding… none of that was me being patient? Being stuck on a carrier in the middle of the Persian Gulf again while you live your life, after I finally got the job posting I'd been dreaming about and then they call me back for this tour… that's not patient?"

He reached over and took her hand, noticing the sadness in her dark eyes, "Sorry."

"No," she shook her head, "I'm the one who should apologize," she sighed, "I didn't mean to… I just… I'm really tired."

"I know. I'm tired, too," Steve kissed her palm and then placed his hand back on the steering wheel, "Which is why we're taking some time off to relax."

The majority of their ride thereafter was in silence as they watched the bustling city fade further into the rearview mirror. The landscape changed dramatically, rolling hills and trees swiftly covering up the asphalt and high-rise buildings. Steve slowed a little as they came upon a large gate. There were two tall concrete walls on either side of the park entrance and a painted green sign connecting the two. The sign was adorned with pictures of tigers on either side, muted in color, possibly sun faded.

At the bottom of the sign were the words: Sanjay Gandhi National Park, Borivali.

On the tall cream colored concrete walls were painted relief artwork of monkeys and other wildlife. Off to the right was a small information booth.

Large maps adorned either side of the entrance but Steve didn't stop. He continued to drive slowly beneath the entry gate as several people mulled about.

"We should get a map," Catherine suggested, turning her head to watch as the information booth quickly faded into the background.

"Don't need one," Steve shook his head, "I know where I'm going," he insisted.

Catherine's lips formed a thin line as she turned to look his way. "Really?" she questioned. Watching him nod, she couldn't help recall another trip in which they'd ended up a bit lost. She fake-coughed into her left hand and emitted a single word through the action, "Bangkok."

Steve chuckled, "Subtle," he acknowledged that he'd understood her, "I promise I know where I'm going this time. I planned things."

She gave in, trying to sit back again and relax as he drove. "So, we're here for this afternoon and then going back to the city?"

He smiled. "You'll see."

Catherine let go a deep sigh. "Steve, I'm not big on surprises," she reminded him again, "I might not have mentioned that before, but…"

"You have," Steve glanced her way and noticed she still looked uncomfortable, "You said you're tired so I'm taking you on a retreat," he finally gave in, "Some peace and quiet, communing with nature. No busy city. Three nights and four-ish days out in the wildness of this beautiful park should help ease the last few rough months… for both of us."

With a small nod, she agreed to go along with his plan. Catherine felt bad for doubting him, and for being so high strung at the moment. "Sorry," she found herself apologizing again, "I had this idea of how I wanted the next few years to go and this additional duty tour wasn't in the cards," Catherine sighed, "It's important work we're doing and I'm honored they wanted me, but I was kind of looking forward to settling in on O'ahu. I had the job, I was house hunting and then…"

"Yeah," Steve agreed that the sudden shift in plans had been an unwanted surprise. "Well, that's the Navy for you. Not ever what you planned."

She nodded again.

The subject was dropped as he drove them further into the nature preserve, a vast contrast to Mumbai's non-stop movement. Here the trees were still, the land had a chance to breath and the road was empty. Steve turned onto a gravel path and it didn't take long before a small cabin came into view. "Here we are," he announced while parking.

A few clusters of tall ashoka trees with their bright evergreen foliage adorned the landscape. Their palm-like leaves flanked the small cabin, which was clad in native teak panels. A simplistic gable-thatched roof topped off the structure. "Ashoka, the sorrow-less tree of India," Catherine remarked as Steve opened the car door for her. She flashed him a pleased smile, approving of his choice in accommodation and his gentlemanly performance.

Steve guided her along a short stone path.

"Too bad it's not a little later in the year," she spoke while standing just in front of the cabin door, reaching out to gently stroke an ashoka leaf. "They have these four-pedal flowers that bloom an amazing shade of bright orange in dense clusters."

"Didn't realize you were into gardening," he chuckled.

"I'm really not, but I read a whole book on the flora and fauna of India in one weekend… several years ago now," Catherine recalled, "My first trip to Mumbai was a two-day leave during my second tour in Afghanistan. I stayed in the city, but there were some ashoka trees in the parks."

He fiddled with the door. "Harsha said it wouldn't be locked, but that the knob can be…" Steve wrenched on it until the door swung open. "Tricky," he grinned, feeling accomplished.

"This is ours?" Catherine asked as she peered inside. "Private?"

"Completely private," he nodded as she stepped inside. Steve was glad to see the light in her eyes return. It made all his planning well worth the effort. "I'll grab our bags, you go check things out," he shooed her further inside the cabin.

Catherine glanced around and found that the space was bright in some spots, shadowy in others, sunlight streaming in through lots of large windows along the back wall. It was warm inside, clearly no air conditioning. But there was a ceiling fan overhead and she pulled the long cord that hung down form it to activate the wooden blades. She was actually surprised to find the cabin had any sort of electricity as it seemed quite remotely located within the park.

The place was small but efficient, one large open room.

To her left there was a single counter kitchenette, tiny fridge and coffee pot, hot plate. Nearby was a bamboo pole for hanging clothes to try. To her right resided a queen sized bed with luxurious teak wood frame and white gauzy curtains to protect them from insects at night. There was only one interior door, which she hoped meant they had some sort of indoor plumbing. Her hopes were realized as she stuck her head inside the tiny tiled bathroom. Just enough space for a three foot square shower, toilet and wall hung sink.

Steve brought their bags in and tossed them onto the bed. "Will this do?"

Catherine spun around upon hearing his voice. She walked toward him and wrapped her arms about his neck. Her fingers weaved through his short hair as she drew him closer. Their lips met and she relayed to him just how well the room would do for her. "The ashoka is sacred to Hindus," she whispered against his lips, "They believe the God of love used the flower on the tip of one of his five arrows to incite passion and desire."

"Five arrows, huh?" Steve couldn't help that he was turned on by her words.

She nodded, "Buddhists believe Buddha was born beneath the Ashoka tree. Ashoka means without grief or sorrow, hence the nickname: the sorrow-less tree of India."

"Hence?" he gently teased. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone actually use the word hence."

"You're a butthead," she gently elbowed him in the side then walked over to the back wall that was dominated by windows. Catherine could see a small deck outside and a beautiful view that had gone unnoticed upon her first glance. "There's a lake?" she opened the door and stepped out onto the deck to take in the unobstructed view.

"Tulsi Lake," Steve relayed as he joined her on the deck. He rested both elbows on a sturdy rail, his arm brushing against her shoulder. The lake was picturesque, a mellow shade of emerald-gray, calm and serene, nestled among a lush landscape of greenery. "Gorgeous to look at, but you do not want to put even a toe in that water."

"Fresh water crocodiles," she nodded.

"You know your stuff," he was impressed. "Have you been to this park before?"

Her head shook, "Nope, read about it," Catherine replied.

"Book nerd," Steve playfully accused.

She smiled, not put off by his comment, "The few times I've taken leave in Mumbai it was always too short. I never thought a few days would be enough time to visit the park so I always stayed in the city." Her leave this time was technically a week, but including flight travel times she really only had part of Thursday, all Friday and Saturday and then only half of Sunday to be with him. That didn't seem like nearly enough time to her either.

"I'm going to prove you wrong." Steve's arms wrapped around her from behind, his chin pressed against her shoulder, "We'll have plenty of time to get out and enjoy this park."

"Out…" Catherine turned to look at him and frowned, "I was hoping to just stay in bed all weekend."

His brow arched, "A tempting offer," Steve smiled. Their lips met again as the last few months faded away for a while. The last day or so of travel soon became a distant memory as their tired bodies rediscovered favorite landscapes that had nothing to do with lakes or ashoka trees, "Maybe we go with your staying in bed plan for tonight," he easily agreed.

Catherine nodded as she silently led him back into the cabin to test out their bed.

000

"Shut up, both of you!" An shouted as she kicked his bad leg.

Steve winced as pain radiated down his thigh.

An used the distraction to relieve him of his gun. Then she took Catherine's and tucked both weapons into the waistband behind her back. "Keep your mouth shut," An instructed. "And maybe you'll live to see your son again someday."

That last comment got under his skin, but Catherine put a hand against his wrist to calm him. "You were right," she whispered. "Please don't be mad at me."

He hated hearing her remorse more than he hated being right.

"I am mad," Steve replied, "Because I trusted her, too." Those words had barely left his mouth when he lunged toward An, kicking her in the stomach despite the pain it caused in his injured leg. He watched with satisfaction as she doubled over.

"Steve, don't," Catherine tried to stop him. "Let me talk to her."

"No more talking," he fumed, "No more trusting her," Steve sprang back into action, but An rebounded quicker than he'd anticipated.

She ducked beneath his second kick, reached behind her back, pulled one gun free of her waistband and spun around.

"Don't be stupid," An warned him as she aimed the weapon at Catherine.

Even with the barrel of a gun pointed at her, Catherine refused to fight the woman.

"I need you to tell him not to be stupid," An demanded of Catherine, "Please tell him not to fight right now, he'll follow your lead," her head was inclined toward Steve, "Please, just cooperate with me," she added in a slightly softer tone. "I don't want to hurt either of you."

"Little late for that," Steve retorted.

Catherine studied An. It was clear she was counting on Steve not fighting back as long as the gun was aimed at his wife. She remembered North Korea, when they'd gotten in over their heads for a moment and knew when to surrender. He'd instructed her to stand down then. She did the same now, "Do as she says," Catherine whispered pleadingly to her husband.

Steve held his hands out in front of him, "Fine… okay, I won't fight," he tried to appeal to An, the words growled through gritted teeth. "Don't hurt her."

An lowered the weapon a little but kept it near Catherine as she waved one of the young men over. He was tall, over six feet, blonde hair and big blue eyes. Muscled and looking ready for a challenge, he stepped forward, crossbow held against his left thigh. "My name is An Zhou. Does that mean anything to you?" she asked him.

"Master said we could let you in if you ever found your way back here," the blonde boy nodded.

"Good," An responded, "What's your name?"

"Emerson," he replied dutifully.

"All right, Emerson… now we're all going to walk inside," An instructed. "You'll take the lead for us," she said to the boy. He nodded. "And some of your friends will follow us to make sure these two don't try to break away. Do you understand?"

Emerson nodded again.

"Lawson gave me a… an office when I was here," An spoke to the lead boy again, "Do you know where that is?"

"Master left it available for you," Emerson replied.

"Then I'd appreciate it if you'd take us there," she directed.

Emerson stepped aside to speak to some of the boys for a moment.

Catherine took the time to gaze upward. Darkness had fully taken over the land, but she couldn't see a single star. The tree canopy overhead was too thick. Her focus shifted to the house on their right. Even though it was quite tall it still didn't come close to reaching the soaring heights of the tress. And when she looked closer she could see the roof was covered not in shingles, tile or thatch, but evergreen plants. Ferns and small palm trees were growing out of the top of the building.

It was the perfect camouflage for anyone flying overhead or taking satellite images.

The stone wall that surrounded the structure blended into the burnt-orange ground. It weaved in and out of the trees, preserving much of the natural landscape.

"Cath?" Steve called to her. "Catherine?"

Steve eyed his wife with worry when she didn't immediately respond. He had a feeling she was trying to work out a plan of attack in her head. He'd thought of the same thing a moment ago, fighting back. Currently there were only a handful of young men surrounded them along with An, but he wasn't certain he and Catherine could take them all out. And even if they could, there was no way to know how many people were waiting to fight them inside. Or if they could exit through the gate they'd just come through.

"Catherine, we're moving," he spoke louder, pressing one hand against the small of her back to get her walking.

She looked over at him as if she hadn't heard a word.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Am I okay?" Catherine smiled at his obvious concern for her, "How's your… leg?"

"Doesn't hurt much," he lied and watched the knowing look that flashed in her dark eyes, "Okay, it stings like crazy," Steve admitted, "Although… she aimed low," he revealed, knowing An easily could've delivered a much more jarring blow, "You look a little pale," his worry resumed.

Catherine did feel kind of sick to her stomach, but she knew it wasn't just because she hadn't eaten much or hadn't had nearly enough water the last few days. It was because she'd taken someone at their word and now she had doubts. "I talked her down off that roof, got her to tell me how to diffuse the bomb she was wearing. I believed Lawson used her, trained her and even tortured her. But now…" she shrugged, "I'm not sure what to think."

He could tell her faith was wavering, "What does your gut tell you?"

"That it's hungry," she quipped.

Steve wasn't falling for it, "Cath…"

"To trust her," Catherine relayed. "For some reason my gut is still telling me to trust her."

"My gut doesn't trust her," he countered, no waver in his tone, "Neither does my leg." But he wasn't going to argue with her over it at the moment, his focus still for her welfare, "You sure you're okay? I remember the last time I was shot, which was a much less serious shoulder wound. You hung on to me at the hospital, got pissed at me, and then propped me in bed with three pillows, a blanket and were bringing me food on a tray."

She grinned a little, "I was pregnant back then, much more emotional."

"And you're not emotional now?" Steve wore an uncertain look.

"Just gotten better at hiding it?" she shrugged.

His head shook, "Not really."

They walked silently for a time after that.

Catherine began to notice a pattern as she carefully studied the boys guiding them. There were five boys ahead of them. Emerson and another young man with dark brown hair both carried crossbows. Two of them had straight-edged combat knives, KA-BAR if she wasn't mistaken, same as Steve usually carried. An automatic rifle was slung over the shoulder of the fifth boy. Another young man behind them had a similar rifle. The other two at their backs carried pistols.

That made a total of eight boys, four sets of two boys with the same weapons.

They all wore the same green and brown jungle camo combat uniforms.

The boys with the knives had square patches on their right shoulders - blue with an embroidered silver dagger design. The boys with crossbows had triangular red patches with golden bow and arrow embroidery. Similar patches were also worn by the boys with pistols and the ones with automatic rifles, different colors and shapes, but all with corresponding weaponry images. She hadn't seen any such patches on the team sent to their jet, but their ages and uniforms were still very similar.

That realization sent an icy shiver down her spine.

She recalled Lawson wanting her to call him master, although she'd used the Chinese word for it. It was still the same title that the lead boy, Emerson, had just referred to him as. Catherine had spent enough time in Afghanistan to know there were extremist militia groups around the globe, the Taliban being just one of many who often times kidnapped young boys and forced them into service for their cause. She had no idea Nick Lawson had gone to that extreme.

"What is this place?" she mumbled under her breath.

Steve and Catherine continued to follow, a briefly shared glance telling her he was seeing the same things she was. They both took note of everything they could. In particular the way An allowed the young men to use their codes to pass through a series of gates. The first gate led them into another narrow outdoor courtyard. The second gate put them in a vestibule with high ceilings and glass walls. The third took them deeper inside the actual building.

After that there was a maze of corridors and dozens of doors. All of the doors were steel construction with electronic locks and touch keypads

They didn't pass by anything that looked remotely comfortable. No sort of living room, bedrooms or kitchen space. And all the halls were eerily empty.

Catherine took a deep breath, trying to hang on to the hope that they'd make it home soon, "We should go somewhere cold for our honeymoon."

Steve glanced over at her, his brow raised significantly, "What are you talking about?"

"You said I should be the one to arrange a honeymoon. I'd like to go somewhere cold so we can just relax," she replied.

He wasn't at all sure where she was headed with the topic, but he could tell she needed something to take her mind off their current predicament. He couldn't blame her. "Aren't you the same woman I spoke to over the phone who complained about how frozen she was in Russia?"

"Yes," she almost laughed, "But that was because I didn't have anyone in bed to curl up next to. A nice cabin in the snowy woods means we could just lie in bed all day and night."

"You're pretty good, very convincing," Steve played along.

She finally smiled, "The nugget will love snow."

"Oh?" he tried to keep her talking, even if it had nothing to do with their present situation, "So now Evan is going on our honeymoon with us?"

"That gonna be a problem?" Catherine asked. "Because after all this… if you think I'm letting him out of my sight again… you're crazy.

His head shook, "I have no problem with the little guy tagging along, but… snow, really? Evan loves the ocean, like I do."

"Snow is peaceful," her voice was practically a whisper now, "White and crisp and clean. It makes the world quiet. We need that, don't you think?" Catherine turned to him, trying to remember the last time they'd had any real peaceful moments, "We need some quiet."

He reached over and laced his fingers with hers, "Yeah, we do."

"I know Evan loves the ocean," she went on, "He was practically born in the ocean." Her tone turned softer, "The day we crashed in the Amazon was the nugget's birthday."

Steve's worry returned, "His birthday isn't until September."

Catherine actually smiled, "His four month birthday was two days ago, on the fifth of January. When they're this little you count every month as a birthday."

"You do?"

"Trust me."

He had a feeling that might've been something else she'd read in a book aboard the Kappa so he didn't question her on it any further. "Listen, Catherine, Evan is going to have seven more of these month-birthdays before he turns a year old. I think missing one isn't going to matter too much." He had to believe that missing the first several months of his son's life didn't matter, even though it still broke his heart to think about it.

"It matters to me," she whispered. "Next will be his five month old birthday and then… his sixth."

His stomach clenched with realization as she mention his sixth month birthday – the age her baby brother had died. Steve squeezed her hand a little tighter.

Silence befell them again as they slowed.

The young men guiding them never spoke a single word, nor did An. They eventually stopped outside one door in a long corridor, which looked the same as all the other doors in the corridor. Emerson, who seemed to be in charge, swiped his thumb across a dark panel that lit up immediately. He then typed in a code against the touchpad control. Steve strained to get a better look, but he couldn't make out the combination the boy had typed in.

An gave the boys a dismissive glance as the door swung open. They stepped back, ushering Steve and Catherine inside.

Lights came on automatically when they entered the room. Steve turned around as An entered and the boys retreated. He tried to block the door from closing with his shoulder, but the partition was far too heavy and automatically closed on them. "Damn it," he growled, taking a step toward Catherine as An walked across the room.

"I suggest you save your strength for more important matters," An said as she squatted in front of a small stainless steel refrigerator. She pulled out three bottles of water and sat them on a large desk in the middle of the room. The desk was made of dark walnut-grain planks. It was a contrast to the rest of the space, bland gray walls and white tile floor. There were no windows and no carpet, just a few chairs; one behind the desk and two in front, each of them molded out of hard black plastic.

A few lamps with dark blue shades were the only other thing beside the desk that might be considered cozy.

"I know it's not much, but the water's cold and I think we could all use a break," An leaned against the desk and reached for a water bottle.

Steve looked to Catherine, searching her for an answer. She could only shrug. "This some sort of joke?" he finally asked.

"No, you should hydrate. We've been going almost non-stop for several days now." An chugged her water, downing almost half the bottle in one gulp.

Catherine made a move to reach for a water bottle, but Steve grabbed her wrist. "We have food and water in our packs from the airport in Porto Velho," he reminded her.

The door swung open again.

One of the blue knife patch boys rushed in and dropped a small plastic box onto the desk. He took off as quietly as he'd entered.

It had happened so fast that Steve hadn't been able to rush the door.

"They don't talk much," Catherine noticed, "But they understand and speak English?" she looked to An for an answer, pushing past Steve's hold on her to reach for one of the cold water bottles. She watched him glare at her as she twisted the top off and took a drink.

"Cath, she could be trying to poison us," he warned.

An took another drink.

"I could be," she said after she'd swallowed. "I think they speak many languages," An finally answered Catherine. She stood up straighter and reached behind her back. An removed both weapons from her waistband and held them out to Steve and Catherine. They didn't hesitate to take them from her. An waved at the plastic box, "That's a medical kit," she pointed out. "I might've torn your stitches when I kicked you. Sorry about that."

Catherine shrugged her backpack off and sat it down on the tile floor. She checked the gun An had just given back to her. The magazine was still loaded. She tucked it into her back waistband and made a move toward the medical kit. "Thank you for the water," Catherine spoke to An.

Steve made an audible tsk of disapproval upon hearing his wife's thank you. He kept his gun in hand and the pack on his back, watching as Catherine opened the box. He remained on high alert, worried the act of opening the case might set off a bomb or flash grenade. But nothing exploded and he saw inside there were only bandages and ointments. He stayed standing, facing An, as Catherine tended the wound. She ripped his pants a little more in order to get to the injury site so he wouldn't have to remove them completely.

The makeshift t-shirt bandages were caked with dried blood. She removed them and winced to see the swollen red flesh around his stitches, "It looks infected. Maybe because we should've taken the time to tend it when we were in Porto Velho, or at the airstrip in Juara," Catherine chided. "But you didn't want to waste time, and now you'll probably need antibiotics." She plucked clean gauze out of the kit and found a small tube of antibacterial ointment.

"There should be some here in the medical wing," An said before she finished her water.

"Medical wing?" Steve grimaced as Catherine used a finger to spread the ointment over his wound. He looked to An again, wanting a real answer, "What the hell is this place?"

She shrugged, "I'm not even sure. I've only been here once and I never saw all these boys."

"Once?" he asked, "Earlier you said you'd been here twice."

"I lied," she walked around the desk and grabbed Catherine's bag, removing the laptop and cell phone that were still messily wired together. "I had to make you believe I knew where I was going and two trips seemed more credible than one," An returned to the desk, placed both items in front of her and began to dismantle the re-wiring she'd done to make Catherine's cell battery work for the laptop.

Steve still hadn't touched the water An provided. Instead he removed his pack and went for his canteen, "That was over a three hour drive we made from the airstrip and you remembered how to get here, blindfolded, after one visit? Forgive me if I don't believe you." He took a swig of his very warm water.

"You can believe whatever you want," the woman replied, not taking her eyes off the project of getting Catherine's laptop back up and running off the regular battery and power cord.

"I believe you're a liar," Steve promptly responded.

"I'm telling you the truth," An replied evenly, "I know that doesn't work well in my favor with my track record, but I'm trying to do the right thing now." She took a moment to glance over at him, their eyes locking across the desk, "When I held you hostage on that roof you said to me that you didn't think it was ever too late to do the right thing. Do you really believe that or were you just trying to get me to back down?"

"I believe it," Steve didn't hesitate in his answer, though it didn't ease his worry about her much.

An returned to her task, "Most people's procedural memory takes a lot of repetition, but mine is nearly instant. It's not a photographic memory, but… it's hard to explain." She tried again, "My parents are both linguist but my father is also a scientist, a builder and a tinkerer. When I was five I watched him construct a two-way radio from scraps. I flawlessly repeated the process after only watching him once. I easily recalled the way here, the turns, the bumps; the feel of the roads."

"So you got us here," he gave in on that point, "And then you pretended we were your prisoners?" Steve was still trying to suss her out.

"In case you haven't realized, I've been making this up as we go," An admitted, "I never actually thought you'd let me off Oahu, and I sure didn't think I'd be able to open that gate out there. I figured Lawson would've changed the security system by now. I got lucky on both accounts. But when those boys surrounded us I had to think fast. You being my prisoners seemed the most likely thing for them to believe. I am sorry about your leg, but it made you mad didn't it? Your anger sold it to them. And I tried to kick low."

"She has a point," Catherine added.

Steve glared at his wife over his left shoulder, "And you still trust her? Even after what you said earlier?"

"Momentary loss of faith," Catherine shrugged, "When she appealed to us An knew exactly what your weakness was. Me," she pointed out, "An took your kick and didn't try to fight you because she knew she'd lose. And she said please, twice. How many bad guys do you know who say please?" Catherine wondered, "Tell him not to fight right now. Right now," she quoted An, "Shut up and maybe you'll see your son again. That wasn't a threat to us," Catherine insisted.

"She's right," An agreed, "I was trying to get you to focus on what matters most. Family. That's why I'm here, for my parents. And I know it's why you both came along, because Lawson is still a potential threat to your family, to your son."

"So you snuck us in here by pissing me off and trying to use our son to appeal to us," Steve didn't see how those facts were meant to make him happy or trust her, "Still doesn't mean I don't think you might kill us at any time, if it serves your purpose."

"An's not going to kill us," Catherine calmly said to him as she finished placing a new bandage over his wound.

"Sure she's not," he derisively dismissed. Steve didn't want to belittle his wife, but he wasn't buying it.

Catherine wasn't offended by his doubt, "She's not, are you, An?"

"No," An replied.

"Great, we have her word," Steve scoffed. "No, actually you're probably right. Of course she's not going to kill us," he groaned, "She's got Lawson's army here to do it for her. She already tried to kill me and she killed Billy instead, so she's a proven screw-up. But you can be assured Lawson will kill us, one way or another. He wants us dead."

"No, he doesn't," Catherine replied, her voice still even-keeled. She tossed the bloody bandages and empty ointment bottle into a nearby trash can and closed up the first aid kit. "He doesn't want us dead; he just wants to hurt us. The way he's hurting."

Catherine grabbed the wet wipes she'd gotten in Porto Velho out of her pack and used them to clean her hands.

Steve turned and took Catherine by the shoulder, looking her in the eye. He wondered how the hell they'd ended up at An's mercy. She'd shot Billy while aiming for him. That should've been the end of it. Steve hated her for killing Billy, which begged the question of why he'd trusted her enough to come on this foolish mission. For his wife, that's why. He trusted Catherine above anyone else. But he was finally starting to question her. Not her loyalty. He'd never doubt that. But he was beginning to worry about her sanity.

"Cath, I think those head injuries have done permanent damage." Realizing he was holding on a bit too tight, he let go of her, "Have you forgotten the jet that crashed the other day?"

She reached a hand to her forehead, one finger running along the small cut she'd obtained when the jet had crashed.

"I remember," she said, "But if Lawson wanted me dead he's had plenty of other opportunities. When I was a kid he was friends with my dad. They went out drinking together. My dad once brought him home to sober up. Uncle Nick could've killed me at any time back then. But he didn't. And then he abducted me when he could've just left me on that Paris flight and blown me up with it. But he didn't. And how many months was I on that ship? He had time. Could've drowned me, poisoned, stabbed, shot… but he didn't."

"Maybe he drew the line at harming little girls, or unborn babies," Steve didn't really believe that either.

"He had time after Evan was born, yet I'm still alive," Catherine persisted, "And poisoning the pilot on our jet didn't guarantee our death, did it? Why not? Because you know how to fly, and Lawson must know that. He knows your history. He knows all about us. I don't believe Uncle Nick wants to kill me."

"Don't call him that, Catherine," Steve growled.

"Why not?" she argued. "He's attached to me for some reason. He calls me child."

"It's just something people do, like you call Evan nugget and I call him champ," he tried to make her understand.

"Nugget, champ… those are terms of affection, Steve. So, by the reasoning you just gave, Uncle Nick calling me child is a term of affection," she argued her point. "I never heard him call his kids anything like that. He only ever called them by name."

"You were six when he first met you, you were a child," Steve maintained, "And you weren't always around him. You don't know that he never called his children by pet names."

"His son died because he was out of control," Catherine persisted, "Lawson knew Matthew was doing drugs but he never stood up and took charge to help him. Lawson used his own daughter, roped her into a ridiculous murder plot and had her set up Billy; a plot that eventually got her killed. None of that screams affection for his kids to me. So why does he call me child? What is it about me that's so damn special in his mind? Why does it seem like he wants to protect me, make me stronger? What's that about?"

Steve took a deep breath and allowed his right index finger to caress her forearm, "Cath, I know you still want to find some reason for why he's done everything, abducting you, killing your friends… but I told you that day he taunted you at HQ and wanted you to shoot him… he's never going to give us a reason."

"Maybe he won't give it to us, but there is a reason. He wanted me to kill him that day, Steve. Not just shoot him, kill him," she repeated, "Me. He could've given himself up to anyone else, but he wanted it to be me. Like you said, he taunted me. Why?"

"Only because An captured him and brought him in to HQ for us," Steve kept it simple, needing her to see it the way he did, "He was caught and didn't want to be taken alive just like that kid out there in the rainforest who cracked his cyanide tooth to end it all."

Catherine finally tossed the wet wipes and plopped herself down in one of the chairs, noticing that An was still busily working, seeming to tune them out, "I don't believe that. Lawson obviously trained An well… brainwashed her, whatever… but he's managed to slide by for decades without anyone knowing about his operations. He gave himself up to An too easily. He was on the island and knew An would take him to you or me. Lawson wanted to end it on his terms."

His jaw clenched defiantly, "So you're saying he somehow planned that?"

"He wanted me to kill him, Steve. I could see it in his eyes. And I very nearly did. I almost gave him exactly what he wanted."

"Why does he want to die by your hand?" Steve asked, not wanting to fight her on the matter any longer.

"I'm still not sure," she paused a moment, "Do we at least agree that the jet crash was sloppily arranged?" Catherine watched him nod, "Right, why else would they send out a team to make sure the job was done? Lawson doesn't do things half way. Everyone aboard that Paris flight died."

"Okay, say I agree that Lawson wasn't behind our jet going down. Then who was?" he tried to go along with her line of thought.

"Someone connected to Lawson," she suggested, "Someone who didn't want us to find this place because they want to take over what Lawson has built here?"

"I can't imagine anyone that would want this sort of… would you even call it a business?" Steve hated to think there was another Lawson or Wo Fat waiting in the wings.

"Someone might," Catherine replied, "Lawson and Wo Fat inherited it from Wo Min, but they had to be thinking toward the future," she shrugged, "I seriously doubt it was Lawson who poisoned that pilot and wanted us to crash, but it was someone who knows about this place and…"

"Exactly," Steve interrupted as his gaze turned upon the other woman in the room, "And I've got a really great candidate that fits the description. Known to work with Lawson, knows this place… oh, and she happens to be the daughter of Wo Min, sister of Wo Fat."

"No!" An protested, abandoning her project and standing, brandishing a small set of pliers in her left hand.

"Defensive, too," Steve noted.

"I'm not the daughter or sister of those men, they are not my family," An did defend herself. "I have good parents, and I am an only child. I realized too late that Wo Fat wanted someone to control, not a sister. I learned my lesson the hard way and it has cost me a great deal."

Catherine tried to calm the woman, "An, I don't think you…"

"Please don't try to make excuses for me, Catherine," she interjected, "I got Billy killed. I allowed my parents to be taken," An sighed regretfully, "But there is no way I would ever want this…" her arms waved around the room, but the motion was meant to indicate the broader surroundings of the entire compound, "Business."

"You got Billy killed?" Steve shook his head, "You killed him. You got your college friend, Pam, involved in this mess and also killed."

"I know what I've done," An responded, "What do you think I'm doing here? My parents are all I have left and they may already be dead. I will have to live with that if it's the truth we uncover here, but I have to try finding them. I have to do everything I can to free them. If your son… if Evan was missing you'd do anything to find him."

Steve took a step toward her, "Are you outright threatening my son now?"

An shook her head, "No, I would never hurt him," she took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. "I just need to find my parents, which means I need your help. I can't do any of this without you. I may have been able to find my way back here on my own, but deep down… I'm a coward," An revealed. "I'm not good at putting up a fight."

"Could've fooled me," Steve said, "Actually you already have."

The woman sat back down, eyeing the project in front of her, "Sometimes I worry you're right," An said, "I worry that I am like them, Wo Min and Wo Fat… their blood in me, quick to anger, quick to judge and to blame. I sought something I already had. My parents have given me everything, and I went against them in favor of biology. When I finally tried to get help I turned to my only friend, Pam… but they got to her as well. I have to live with that."

"Steve," Catherine returned to her feet, taking him by the hand to physically draw him away from An. They stood across the room, huddled in the corner, "Do you trust me?"

His eyes were still on An, "I don't trust her enough to…"

"No," Catherine gently used her palm against his stubble covered cheek to get him to focus on her, "Not An. Do you trust me?'

"Yes, you know I do, absolutely," he found some calm gazing into her dark eyes.

"I think we should help her," Catherine said, "It's why we came here."

"We came here because she blackmailed us," Steve's voice rose an octave as he turned to face An again, not wanting his back to her for long, "She dangled evidence to keep Lawson locked away, evidence we have no way of knowing actually exists."

An looked him in the eye again, "I can't sway you, Steve. I'm glad. Hopefully that means I am not as much like Wo Fat or Lawson as I think. They easily swayed me. I was a fool. You're not a fool, neither of you are, which is why I turned to you both for help. I know my parents are here, they have to be, dead or alive. This is where Lawson claimed he needed his highest security. I helped him with some of that, but I also gave him the means to change the codes and alter the scanners. He's overridden them."

Catherine moved back to the chair she'd sat in earlier and tiredly lowered herself into it, "But they're your systems. If you designed them you can hack into them, can't you?"

"I created the security system for a one-time code transfer so Lawson could set the codes to anything he wanted," An refocused on the mechanics of things, "After that the system completely locks you out. You can't alter it. Not even Lawson could override it. He would've needed someone like me to change the system, but since a few of my codes are still programed," she shrugged, "It doesn't seem he's changed anything."

Steve could see he wasn't going to win against An and his wife's double-teaming, so he tried to prod the woman, "You've created bombs. You created the system that trapped us in that warehouse on Oahu. Surely you can override these security features that you created."

"Of course there is always a way," An nodded, "But the system I designed for Lawson is uniquely integrated. You'd have to dismantle every single node simultaneously, which would require an extreme amount of rewiring that'd make what I did to this laptop look like a child's puzzle. I designed the placement of several hundred security nodes just on this main floor. There's an upper level and at least one sublevel that I was never allowed to access."

"So those levels aren't secure?" Steve was curious.

"I'd say they were probably more secure," An shrugged. "Or maybe one level is more secure, and one is less secure," she was still guessing, "I'm good at what I do, but there are others much better and I'm sure Lawson only hires the best. I think he has more at stake here than my parents, or anything to do with slave trade."

"The boys?" Catherine asked.

She shrugged again, "Maybe. I'm not sure, but their presence here is sort of creepy."

"Is there anything you are sure of?" Steve asked, still not convinced of her innocence, "Why did Lawson bring you here, the real reason, which I doubt has to do with security."

An looked him in the eye. "My being here did have to do with security, after I proved my loyalty. I was never hired, though, I was coerced. This place… this obviously isn't Lawson's villa among the soybean fields that he likes to brag about. This place is… it is very private. There are rooms here where no one can hear you."

Even with his doubt still in place, Steve knew exactly what she was talking about. He shared a look with Catherine which told him she understood as well.

"I was held here for nearly a month before I began my security designs," An explained, "I didn't see much of this place, but I was occasionally shoved into this office when they thought I needed a break. It was just like this. There was never a computer or television, no books. But there was water and a place to sit."

Catherine sighed, "Your gilded cage," she recalled the Kappa's top deck where she'd been held for nearly a year.

"After they finished with me…" it was clear An didn't want to talk about her experiences in detail, "Lawson made sure I had access to the outer gates and this office while I worked on the security upgrades. He thought it was good for me to get fresh air from time to time, but a guard always made sure I stayed nearby," she explained. "And like I already said, I designed the system codes to lock. I figured Lawson would've found some way to change that by now."

"Maybe he hoped you'd come back around to his side," Catherine thought.

"Or maybe he didn't think you'd ever find your way back here on your own," Steve said, "Remember what that Emerson kid said?"

An nodded as she got up and walked over to the office door.

"When we arrived I was hesitant to try any more gate codes, which is why I allowed the boys to guide us inside," she typed in a short series of numbers on the touch keypad and the heavy door swung open. "You only have a few seconds before it'll close again," An warned, looking to Steve, "Go if you want. To get to the medical wing you take a left out this door, then down to the end of the corridor, turn left again and it'll be the third door on your right."

The door closed on its own but An retyped the code, offering him another chance to leave.

"You're just going to let me go?" Steve asked.

"I have no idea if we're being watched," she let him know, "I don't know if they haven't heard about my deception against Lawson or my jail time. Or if they just don't care."

"They might try to keep us here until Lawson is set free," Catherine mulled over the possibilities.

An spoke to Steve again, "I'd like to get the laptop up and running so we can contact your team and let them know what's going on. But if you decide to leave now you should take Catherine with you and your things. Neither of you should be wandering around on your own. I won't fault you for leaving; you got me here as you promised. When I find my parents I'll make sure I keep my promise and tell you were the information against Lawson is."

Steve remained inside, the door already having closed again. "Okay, get the laptop working," he grudgingly agreed.

She had it back in working order after only ten more minutes.

Catherine grabbed the power cord and plugged it into the nearest outlet. She waited for the computer to boot, drumming her fingers against the sturdy plastic chassis. "Okay, Harry, let's see how good you are," Catherine typed a few commands to bring up the satellite program. "The signal is really weak in here," she tried several things to boost it, but nothing helped. "I think this whole building might've been designed to shield signals," she lamented.

"They don't want anyone knowing they're here," Steve agreed, "But there's some sort of power source. There must be a way to punch through."

"I'll try Skype," Catherine fiddled with the power settings again, "The weak signal might be enough to get a message through even if we can't give them exact coordinates for our location," she glanced over at Steve, "We have a rough idea, don't we?"

Steve nodded.

Skype powered up but the connection wouldn't go through, their calls kept getting dropped. Catherine persisted, trying over and over until a very pixelated version of Chin's face appeared. "Oh, thank God," Catherine wanted to kiss the screen. "Chin, can you hear us?"

"Cath… rine?" his voice was broken, "Wer… you… we… trying… call for… days."

"Chin," Steve squatted in front of the webcam, "We probably don't have much time. I need you to contact the CIA. Get them to send a team to Juara. From there they have to head north for…" he trailed off, noticing the call had been dropped again. "Damn it, get him back," Steve demanded.

"I'm trying," Catherine did her best. It took six more failures before she announced, "There, I've got him again."

"Where the heck are you guys?" Chin asked. "I couldn't get any of that…"

"About 300-350 kilometers north-east of Juara, almost to the northern border of Mato Grosso," Steve interrupted, hoping to at least get that much through.

Chin's grainy image had already disappeared again.

Catherine spent the next forty minutes toggling between trying to get Chin back on Skype and fighting to enhance the signal from Harry.

Both efforts got her nowhere.

"This obviously isn't working, Cath," Steve wasn't upset at her, but his frustration was evident as he pushed his chair away from the desk with a noisy screech of metal legs against tile floor. He stood and grabbed his pack. Steve unzipped it and pulled An's smaller bag out, tossing it onto her desk. He messily patched his torn pants with duct tape then shouldered his pack. "If we haven't gotten a signal yet I'm not wasting any more time on it. We need to find An's parents and get out of here."

Catherine unplugged the laptop and stuffed it in her bag then slung the pack over her shoulders.

An grabbed the water bottle Steve had refused. There were a few more bottles in the fridge and she packed them all. She headed to the door and keyed in her code.

"Which way?" Steve did his best to work with the woman rather than against.

"I don't know," An shrugged, "Other than the medical wing."

"No time for that. Where would they take your parents?" he tried to keep calm, "Somewhere quiet like the place they took you when you were here? Where was that?"

Her head shook, "I don't know," she repeated.

"You got us here, but you can't find a room inside this place?" his fuse was already growing short.

"I was drugged, unconscious," An patiently explained, "I don't know where they took me."

"Okay," Catherine stepped in to try and help, "How about the sublevel you mentioned, that seems like it might be a good place to start. Sublevel suggests its underground, sounds like a nice quiet place to keep someone they don't want found."

Steve nodded, "Good idea. Where are the stairs?" he looked to An. "Elevators?" Her silence spoke volumes, "You don't know," he guessed, "Okay, we entered from the south-west corner and that was to our right," Steve pointed, "So I'm going with left," he declared, taking the lead.

Catherine walked alongside him, An behind them. "I never got to ask Chin…"

He glanced over at his wife and took her hand. Steve understood without her finishing the thought, "Evan is fine. That's what Chin was going to say when you asked."

"Evan's fine," she repeated, trying to believe it.

000

She woke Friday morning to find that her body ached a little.

It was a good and bad ache – a mixture of the last two stress-filled months catching up to her, and an evening of fantastic sex. Catherine yawned and stretched, turned her head and reached for Steve only to find he wasn't there at her side. She flipped over and sat up, the white sheet falling to her waist, knees to her chin as she yawned again and tried to locate him. The bug netting hung open and there was nowhere to hide other than the bathroom. She didn't hear any running water.

Catherine pushed the sheets back entirely and pulled on panties and a t-shirt from her bag.

She walked barefooted to the back of the cabin and found the door hanging open, sunlight streaming in.

Steve was seated at a small wooden table on the deck, facing the lake, steaming mug of coffee in one hand.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, "About time you woke up."

"You know I like to sleep in when I'm on leave." She stretched both arms above her head and noticed he was already fully dressed, even clean shaved. And his blue-gray eyes were bright and cheery, "How are you so chipper?" she yawned before plopping herself down onto his lap.

Steve let out an audible, and exaggerated, whoosh of breath, "Make yourself comfy," he grinned. The smile quickly faded when he noticed what she was wearing, "Cath, this is my favorite SEAL t-shirt, the one I got after my third tour," his fingers rubbed the bottom hem that hit her mid-thigh, "I've been wondering where it got to for months. You're a thief," he accused, sliding his hand down her leg to tickle behind her knee.

Catherine squirmed, "I like that it smells like you," she defended her actions, trying to fend him off, "I sleep in it most nights."

"Uh, huh," he stopped tickling her in favor of stealing a kiss. "I'm jealous of my shirt," Steve whispered, "It's gotten to be with you more than I have."

She yawned again. Catherine eyed his coffee mug, took it from him and sipped from it. Her nose scrunched, "Needs cream and sugar," she immediately handed it back to him.

"Girly coffee," Steve stated.

"I'm a girl," her head rested against his shoulder as she scanned the land. A fine white mist hung low over the lake, seeming to rise off the water. The sun hovered brightly, just barely a notch above the highest peak on the horizon. "Can't be that late," she closed her eyes, "Besides, we have no plans for the day except to relax. Right?"

Steve was quiet for a moment as a slow sip of coffee was taken.

Catherine felt him shift. She opened her eyes and spotted the coffee mug on the table. His left hand was pressed against her bare thigh. "Steve, you didn't plan anything, did you?"

"Trust me; you'll like what I have planned."

"Not unless it's you and me lying in bed all day."

He smiled, "There'll be plenty time for that later. I want to show you something." Steve slid one arm beneath her legs. The other went to her back as he lifted her and walked her into the cabin. He moved toward the bed, kissed her softly for a moment and then abruptly set her down on her feet. "Get dressed and I'll pour you a cup of girly coffee before we head out," he watched the furrow of her brow, "It'll be relaxing," Steve promised as he walked away.

She sighed, "Is there a dress code?"

"Something comfy," he called over his shoulder from the kitchen counter, "But not a skirt."

Catherine frowned at that, "I haven't been able to wear anything but my duty uniform for months. I like wearing skirts."

"And I very much like you in skirts," Steve agreed, pouring a mug full of coffee, "I just don't think you'll be very comfortable in a skirt for what I have planned."

"Which is?"

He chuckled, grabbing a carton of milk from the small refrigerator, "A surprise… for real this time."

An hour later she found herself dressed in stretchy pants, t-shirt and canvas flats. She also found herself starring straight up at an almost sheer faced wall of weather-worn rock, a murky black stone with rivulets etched by monsoon season runoff. Catherine realized they were near the Kanheri caves – a place she'd read about and seen a few pictures of. She knew Kanheri was derived from an old Sanskrit word meaning Black Mountains.

The term seemed perfectly fitting considering the monumental Buddhist monastery had been chiseled out of enormous basaltic rock outcroppings.

Steve already had a harness on, straps around both his thighs and secured about his torso. Catherine watched him examine some of the equipment laid out before her, "This is your idea of relaxing?" she asked again for about the third time since she'd realized his plan was to rock climb.

He nodded enthusiastically.

"You just spent nearly two days of travel to get here, because even though you said we could meet half way you knew Mumbai was further for you to travel," she noted, a fact for which she was grateful to him, "Then you drove an hour and a half to get here yesterday and now you have enough energy to climb this wall?"

"And rappel down it after we reach the top," Steve nodded again, "You've climbed before, right?"

"No," Catherine replied, "Nothing more than a rope or net wall obstacle on fitness courses."

"Really?" he made sure their lines were all secure, checking and double checking, before he geared up a bit more, "I could've sworn you mentioned rock climbing as one of your hobbies. Didn't you go on a trip to Yosemite with your cousin and she fell and broke her ankle?"

Her head shook slowly, "Nope, pretty sure you've got me confused with another of your girl… friends," Catherine gulped, not meaning to put those two words so closely together.

"I think you're right," Steve laughed it off until her words sunk in a few seconds later. "I mean, I think it was Freddie who told me about Kelly and her cousin."

She heard the distinct downturn in his tone, which had previously been upbeat. His mention of Freddie made his voice gloomy. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit Kelly and Emma yet," Catherine mentioned, "I feel so bad, but Kelly's always really understanding about it when we talk," she tried to ease into the topic. They hadn't heard much from the State Department about the negotiations for Freddie's body, though she checked every few weeks, "Have you been to see them?"

"Would've told you if I had," he replied dismissively.

"Why haven't you?" Catherine pressed.

"No time," Steve said.

It was easy for her to pick up on the fact that he didn't want to talk about it, his responses having grown shorter. She let it go, knowing they'd both been busy the past year. Catherine gazed down at the array of equipment and resigned herself to his rock climbing idea, wanting to spend time with him any way possible. "So, what do I do first?"

"Start at the top with your helmet," he pointed to the aqua colored one near her foot, "I know you like blue."

"I do," she scooped up the helmet and fastened it on her head, chin strap tightened.

"Harness and then shoes," Steve instructed.

She kicked off her canvas flats and pulled the harness on first then slipped on the climbing shoes. "How'd you know my size?"

"I've spent enough time around your shoes," Steve grinned, "Since you usually toss them off near my bed... or whatever bed is nearby."

Her eyes rolled, but she grinned.

"Harsha was great, getting me the cabin and all this equipment set up," Steve rambled a bit about the man he'd hired to arrange their weekend plans. "His wife is expecting their second baby any day now, but he seemed so happy to help me," he remarked.

She listened as he spoke about a complete stranger. It seemed easier for him to talk about a man he'd only ever spoken to over the phone than anything real about the past few months of his life. Catherine was worried about him, his mood swings from happy to melancholy in a few seconds, and his desire to avoid talking about the serious stuff. She knew enough about PTSD to see the signs; knew she suffered it herself. Very few could make it through even one tour of duty without the harsh effects.

He got her geared up the rest of the way and gave her a brief overview of his climbing plan, the basics she'd need to know. Steve started out ahead of her, showing her a few things, which was easier than explaining. "Hey?" he glanced down to where she was, only a few feet off the ground, noticing she'd gotten very quiet. "Are you even paying attention? This is kind of important if you don't want to tumble down the side of this rock face."

"Sorry," Catherine called up to him, an impish grin on her face.

Steve watched as she did a very poor job of averting her eyes from his behind, "Enjoying the view?"

"I am actually, that red helmet is very fetching on you," she stuck her tongue out at him. "Come on, are we chatting here or are we climbing?" Catherine was in a teasing mood, but she also found she was actually eager to learn. She was almost always up for a challenge, and competitive to a fault at times. They were a lot alike in that manner.

His smile returned to hear her excitement, "You trust me?"

"Absolutely," there was no hesitation in her tone.

The climate was a lot like Oahu – temperature highs still into the upper seventies Fahrenheit at the end of December.

He waited for her to catch up to him, using her newly acquired skills like a pro. "You're a fast learner," Steve admired. "I'm surprised you've never done this before. You seem like the rock climbing type, adventurous, athletic. You've done all that ice skating and gymnastic stuff."

"Yes, but I'm also a book nerd as you like to point out," Catherine copied his moves as they continued to ascend, hazy morning burning off as the sun rose higher over the hills. "Intel work doesn't usually require me to leap tall buildings in a single bound," she chuckled.

"Sure," he smiled, glancing over his shoulder. "But now that we're about half way up you have to admit this is relaxing, wind in your hair, fresh air…"

Catherine nodded. "Yeah, it's kind of nice, sort of peaceful and quiet," she agreed, though her favorite part was still the simple fact of spending time with him. And she would gladly sit in the arctic freezing her ass off just to be with him. "And I have my very own Indiana Jones," she grinned as she watched him take off ahead of her a little.

"You comparing me to Harrison Ford?" he looked down again, watching her nod, "That's a compliment I'll take."

She gazed at his backside again and smiled, "You should."

Steve reached the top first. He waited for her, giving her a hand up over the ledge. They unhooked themselves and left the ropes. Steve removed her helmet and his own, revealing slightly sweaty and matted hair on both their heads. He left the gear behind, aside from a pack on his back. Steve took her hand and they walked a short distance toward the southern end of the summit where it was grassy. "Can't get this view of the city from anywhere else," he remarked, waving his free hand at the vista.

Her fingers gripped his tighter.

Catherine was sure her breathing had slowed considerably, a sense of calm washing over her as she gazed out at the view. They could see a couple of larger lakes at the south end of the park. And past the park's hilly green borders lay the massive infrastructure of the city. Mumbai was laid out before them, building peaks and cars looking tiny, the hustle and bustle hidden by their distance from it all. They could even make out the curvature of the earth along the distant ocean's horizon.

It made her feel big and small all at once.

"Quite a view," Catherine whispered, knowing her words were entirely inadequate.

He turned and kissed her cheek before removing his pack. "Are you hungry?" Steve asked.

She nodded, watching in amusement as he squatted and hunched over his pack. He pulled out a small woven blanket and spread it out then began to present several containers of food. Catherine sat down, tucking her feet beneath her as she continued to watch him. The last thing removed was a small thermos before he settled down beside her. A gentle bit of warm wind kicked up as he encouraged her to dig in. "We have Harsha's wife to thank for all this."

Catherine opened one container and inhaled, "Samosas," her stomach actually groaned as she pulled one of the triangular shaped pastries free and took a bite, "Spiced potato," her eyes rolled back into her head as she savored the flavor. "Thank you very much, Harsha's wife," Catherine chewed slowly. She enjoyed seeing Steve explore the contents of the other containers. There was another one filled with more samosas. There was also fresh fruit, chocolate and biscuits.

"Did you know the potato was brought to India by the Portuguese?" Catherine said upon finishing her first and going for a second.

"I did not know that," he chuckled, taking a bite of one, "Did you know you have a lot of useless facts in your head?" Steve teased. He savored the taste of his meal, "These are green chili and lentil," he gave her a thumb's up approval of the flavor.

She reached for one of the lentils-filled ones, "I read a lot in my downtime," Catherine defended.

"Maybe you should take up another hobby," Steve suggested, "Knitting is good," he grinned, devouring one of the spiced potato samosas.

"You suck," she licked her fingers and reached for some fruit.

"You suck," he playfully taunted in return.

Her brow arched, "Sometimes… but only if you're lucky," Catherine popped a couple grapes into her mouth and bit down.

His eyes widened, head shaking; "Now you've sullied this gorgeous view with your naughty thoughts."

A bark of laughter escaped her lips, "Don't be so high and mighty there, sailor, because your eyes are all… naughty hopeful," she accused.

"Naughty hopeful?" he shook his head at her again, "All that sea air has gone to your head. You've gone crazy." Steve unscrewed the thermos cap and passed it over to her.

She smiled as the distinct pungent smell hit her nostrils, "Ginger tea. Harsha's wife better have a name and an address so I can send her a thank you note," Catherine said as Steve held the thermos top out to use as a cup. She poured the tea and blew on it briefly before taking a sip, "A very long thank you note."

"Her name is Komali," Steve took the cup from her and drank. "And speaking of thank you notes, I almost forgot," he handed back the tea cup. "Chin wanted me to thank you for the wedding gift. He said he and Malia are planning to get a lot of use out of it."

Hearing that made Catherine smile. "Well, don't tell either of them but I happen to have a friend who's a masseuse at that spa and she gave me a very good discount on the season pass I gave them for their wedding," she revealed.

"Still a very thoughtful gift," Steve noted, "You barely know them."

"True, but I like your friends. I never get to spend much time with them, but I like them," she let him know.

"I like that you like them," he smiled.

"Mutual like-age is good," Catherine chuckled. "I know Chin and Malia both work stressful jobs. And marriage can be stressful," Catherine immediately thought of her parents. She shrugged, "I figured some trips to the spa, a nice massage once in a while, would be a good way for them to relax."

He leaned in to kiss her again, "Very thoughtful," Steve repeated. When he sat back again he presented a container that he'd kept hidden. "A little something I requested."

Catherine looked inside the container. Her eyes lit as she spotted the slivered nuts in the treat, "You found chikki made of almonds?"

"Sort of a specialty item," Steve was glad to see she appreciated the gesture. "I know you like almonds," he harkened back to the night they'd met.

"I do," she swallowed an emotional lump in her throat before taking a bite of the sweet.

000

"There," Steve stopped at the end of a long corridor.

Catherine spotted the door he was looking at along the cross corridor wall, "Different locking system," she noticed.

All of the corridors they'd traversed so far looked identical. All the walls were painted the same shade of gunmetal gray. All the floors were white tile. All lighting was simplistic recessed fluorescent. All the doors looked exactly the same, steel, hidden hinges, touchscreen keypad locks and no identifying signs. They couldn't even identify a bathroom if there was one. But the door Steve had just found didn't have a touchscreen on the door. It had a slightly larger black panel just to the left of the door.

An stepped around them, "I've seen these before." The flat panel was flush mounted and about five feet off the ground. "I haven't worked much with this technology, but I know it's meant to scan and calculate a person's height, then perform an ocular scan based on that height information." As the last words left her lips, a red beam of light was activated by her presence. The wide laser beam targeted her face, scanning up and then down.

When it was done a mechanical voice announced: "Access denied."

"I guess Lawson's trust in you had limits," Steve remarked.

"I'm pretty sure that scan wasn't ocular like I thought," An dismissed his comment. She stepped aside so she wouldn't reactivate the scanner. Her fingers ran all along the edges of the panel but couldn't find a weak spot to pry on. "The beam width was wide. Ocular scans are typically narrow, pinpointed." She pressed her palm against the panel but it was too small to fit her entire hand. It beeped angrily for a moment until she pulled away, "Not a print scan like the exterior gate locks."

Steve heard footsteps approaching from their left. He motioned for Catherine and An to move back into the corridor they'd just come from.

One young man approached the door with the scanner they'd just tried. He had reddish-brown hair and pale skin, short and stocky build. The boy carried no weapon or patch representation of one, nor did he wear a camouflage uniform. He had on plain black slacks, a white polo shirt and his right arm was in a sling. They watched as the boy's presence set the scanner off. The beam scanned him and the mechanical voice said: "Access granted."

The door slid open and immediately closed after the boy stepped through.

"So much for not being ocular," Steve shot an accusatory glance at An.

"I agree," An admitted defeat, "I don't know what else it could be."

Catherine put a hand against her husband's forearm, "I don't think it scanned his eye specifically." She walked back to the door, "The beam scanned his entire face, forehead to chin, up and down. Same as it did An," she recalled.

"Full facial recognition?" An shook her head a little, "Facial recognition doesn't usually require a scan like that, it just… recognizes."

"No, I think it was definitely scanning for something specific within that range," Catherine said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the fake tooth she'd taken from a boy shortly before the jet explosion. "Maybe these teeth are implanted with a dual purpose," she held the tooth up at about jaw level and stepped in front of the scanner.

It scanned her and a few seconds later the voice chimed: "Access granted."

Steve quickly ushered them through the door. When it closed behind them he smiled at Catherine, "How'd you know that would work?"

"I didn't," she walked beside him as they followed An down a set of brightly lit stairs.

They immediately noticed that the stairwell was different from the cold modern interior they'd just left behind. The stairs were carpeted in a rugged, cream-colored material that was cushiony. The walls were painted a bright taupe, not gray like the upper level. There were handrails fashioned of Brazilian walnut hardwood similar to An's desk. And the light fixtures weren't fluorescent. They were wall sconces that gave off a bright glow similar to that of natural sunlight.

"Nice work anyhow," Steve praised his wife, "Must be some sort of microchip implant."

Catherine gave him a weak smile, "Yeah," she agreed, saddened by the fact the boy had died for them to gain access, "Unfortunately, I think it's going to take a lot more than this tooth to get us out of here," she considered braking the tooth open further to fish out the microchip, but she worried that might destroy it. She stuffed the whole thing back in her pocket and then reached out to take Steve's hand, "You know I love you, right?"

"Sure," he nodded; a little worried as to why she was bringing it up now.

"I love that you don't trust An, even though I've asked you to," she spoke softly, "I love that you're pig-headed and skeptical."

"Thanks, I think?" Steve flashed a questioning gaze at her as they continued their descent.

She nodded, "I like to think there's good in everyone, even Uncle Nick. I like to think I can save everyone," Catherine remembered him accusing her of that once. "I know my comments before about Evan growing up to be just as stubborn as you probably sounded like a complaint at the time, but even though you frustrate me sometimes… I love that you balance me out. If our son grows up to be as dedicated and strong willed as you that wouldn't be so bad," she declared.

"And if he grows up to be as compassionate as you, that wouldn't be so bad either," Steve drew her hand to his lips and gave the back of it a quick kiss.

"We did give her our word," Catherine reminded him, "And she gave us hers."

"I know," Steve nodded, "I just hope she really has embraced this chance to do the right thing," he said before they reassessed their surroundings.

It took several more minutes to work their way down.

As they left the stairwell they found themselves in an inviting environment, which was also a significant contrast to the upper levels.

They entered into an expansive room that was nearly the size of a manufacturing warehouse, yet it felt more like a country club. Gently curved archways and thick columns divided the room into several smaller areas. There were buttery colored walls that made the space feel warm. The lighting was softer than the stairwell, yet somehow still natural. A long mural dominated a back wall, deep greens and browns of trees and rolling hills, and cool blues and white to reflect ocean waves crashing onto a shoreline.

Cabinetry, doors, tables and benches were also fashioned from the same walnut as they'd seen in the stairway handrails. Bookshelves lined several of the walls, all of them stocked with a massive library. Artwork hung everywhere, replicas of famous paintings. Glass sculptures were displayed on tabletops. There was also an array of what looked like childish scribbling and finger paintings hung on some walls. Cushy sofas and colorful plush rugs were arranged in living room settings.

The ceiling heights varied from space to space but were mostly a few stories tall, not at all cavernous like a sublevel would suggest.

A huge atrium along the east side of the space was a focal point. With glass walls that they imagined one could see outside through when it wasn't so dark.

There was also an unmistakable sound of rushing water coming from just beyond those glass walls. "Waterfall?" Catherine guessed.

Steve nodded.

The only thing that seemed to be missing from the cozy setting was people.

"Você não deveria estar aqui," a voice from behind surprised them.

Catherine turned to find a young man approaching them from a hallway that branched off the larger room. He was an inch or so taller than her, slim and fit like all the boys she'd seen so far. He had dark brown hair and a creamy complexion. The boy's ancestry was hard to pinpoint, as were all the others she'd seen in the compound. But she had a feeling there was at least some bit of Japanese lineage in him. He had soft green eyes, oval face and wore the same black pants and white polo they'd seen on the other boy.

There was one thing about the young man that stood out more than anything, the fact that he was cradling a baby in his arms; a child no more than a few months old.

"He said we shouldn't be down here," An translated.

"You don't speak Portuguese," the boy realized, his eyes focused on Catherine.

"Sorry, no," Catherine greeted them both with a smile, "I'm afraid we've gotten a little lost," she tried to cover.

"That's obvious," the boy's voice was hushed as he gently rocked the fidgety baby, "It's after hours, most of the little ones are asleep," he informed them. "Except for Jomi here who only likes to sleep during the day," he glanced down at the baby in his arms. The infant's mild fussiness turned quickly into a wail. "If you're looking for your rooms, visitor quarters are on the upper levels," he relayed above the sound of the baby's crying.

Four young men ran noisily down the stairs, all of them wearing camo uniforms. They zipped past them without much notice, seeming to be in a race as they cut down the hallway.

"Calma passarinho," the teenager spoke softly to the baby.

"He seems pretty upset," Catherine noticed the infant was clothed in a simple white t-shirt and cloth diaper.

The baby was completely bald and had big blue eyes. She couldn't say for certain it was a boy, but she suspected.

"Jomi is almost always upset," the young man tried to sooth the baby by using a swaying motion. "I put in to be a caregiver in June and I got Jomi toward the end of November," the boy smiled proudly as he faced Catherine, "It's a great honor to be caregiver to a younger brother, but I don't remember the others being cranky babies. Maybe I've just forgotten," he glanced down at the baby who kicked his feet passionately against his caregiver's forearm, "I don't think he likes me much."

"I doubt that's true," Catherine tried to assure him, reaching a hand out toward the baby, "Could I hold him?"

An and Steve seemed fine allowing Catherine to do all the interacting for the moment, hoping she might relate better to the young man.

"He doesn't really like anyone," the boy seemed wary of letting go.

"I have a son about his age, four months old," she smiled, "He can get pretty fussy if he's hungry or messy."

The young man shook his head, "I just fed and changed him."

She noticed he didn't seem offended by her insinuation, but the baby kept crying and wiggling, "Can I try something my son likes?" Catherine asked, extending both hands toward the baby. It was hard to see the little guy so upset and not think about Evan, wondering if he was distressed without her, "Maybe it won't help, but it might," she shrugged.

A hesitant look remained in his eyes even as he handed the baby over to her. He shot Steve and An a curious gaze, "I don't mean to sound rude, but you three don't seem like teachers. And we don't start classes again until the first week of February, almost a month from now. You're here kind of early."

Catherine took the baby and smiled at the little guy as she pressed his tummy against her left shoulder and began to rub his back. "We're not teachers," she ventured, "We're here for a meeting with Lawson. Like I said, we must have gotten turned around." The baby quieted almost instantly in her arms as she continued to run her right hand in a small circular motion across his back, "My son likes to be held upright, too," she glanced over to see the baby had rested his head against her shoulder.

"He likes you," the older boy was surprised. "He usually just cries when I hold him. Sometimes it makes me very upset that I can't get him to stop."

"When my son was about two weeks old he started crying one night and I couldn't calm him," Catherine revealed, "I had fed him, changed him, rocked him…" she remembered how overwhelmed she'd felt that night, "He cried for nearly three hours straight. I was so upset. I thought I was the worst mother ever because I didn't know how to calm by own baby down. I seriously wanted someone to come take him away from me because I was so worked up."

Steve rested a comforting hand against her back as she spoke.

"About a half hour later he stopped crying," Catherine let the teenager know, "His soft pudgy cheek was pressed against my shoulder, eyes closed, looking completely serene. He was finally asleep, but I started crying," she recalled. "I felt guilty for ever thinking I wanted him gone," she sighed, looking the older boy in the eye, "Sometimes babies just cry. And if you ever get frustrated again, put him down and walk away for a while. It's better than doing something that might hurt him."

The young man nodded, looking a bit worried.

She flashed him a reassuring smile, "I don't think I've ever heard about a baby crying himself to death. Sometimes a caregiver just needs a break."

"Okay," the boy finally smiled.

"As for this little guy," she looked at the baby again, "I think his tummy might be bothering him," Catherine guessed as she continued to rub his back, "It took me a while to figure out why my son likes this position, but I'm pretty sure it has to do with digestion." Sure enough the baby let go of an audible toot as well as a burp at the same time. She smiled, "There you go," Catherine spoke softly to the little guy, "Good job."

The older boy cringed as he watched the baby urp all over her shoulder. "I should take him back," he reached for the boy, "I don't have a cleaning cloth, I'm so sorry."

Catherine handed the baby over, but she immediately missed his warmth and powdery smell, "Don't worry, I've gotten used to it." She took off her pack and pulled out the pack of wet wipes. Catherine cleaned her tank top strap and shoulder, "You said his name was Jomi. What's yours?" she finally tried to deepen the connection she felt they had going.

"My name is Henry," the boy smiled again, holding the baby against his shoulder as she had. "Are you Catherine?"

Steve finally took a step forward, standing protectively at his wife's side. "Why would you ask that?" he glared suspiciously at the boy.

"Father often speaks about a woman named Catherine," Henry answered, looking at her and not Steve. "Her physical description fits you. He always tells us about how she's very friendly, and that she makes people feel safe, relaxed. And also… how does he say… somehow she makes the people around her want to be good, be better than they are."

She remembered Lawson saying something similar, "Yes, my name is Catherine," she answered, "Henry, do you live here?"

"We both do," he looked to the baby.

"With your parents?" it was An who asked.

The boy wore a slightly confused look, "No, we live here with our brothers. We don't have parents."

"But you call Lawson father," Steve pointed out. "You do mean Nick Lawson, don't you?"

Henry nodded, "We know he's not really our father, but a lot of us like to call him that because he provides for us. He's rescued us all and brought us here so we can have a family," he explained. "I have many brothers in my family, and so many more cousins from the other families that live here."

"What do you do here?" Catherine asked, "You mentioned teachers, so you go to school?"

"Of course, we all have schooling," Henry seemed at ease around them the more he spoke, "Languages are my favorite subjects. Most of us speak several, at least English and Portuguese, but I speak ten different languages fluently including American Sign Language. One of my little brothers, Miguel, was born deaf."

"How many families are there here?" Steve wondered, "Lawson mentioned it once, but I've forgotten now," he tried not to seem like he was prying too much.

Henry didn't have to think about it, "There are fifty families. Some are bigger than others and it's always an honor to be given a new family member, like Jomi. My family is one of the largest. Markum is my oldest brother, he's 21. Ross is 20. Tullis is 19. Liam and Carson are twins, both 18. Then me, I'm sixteen. Leonard is 14 and Miguel is twelve. David is 7, Tucker is 6, Alvaro is five and Bennett is 3. Jomi is four months. Since I'm his caretaker I got to name him."

"Who takes care of you all when Lawson isn't around?" Catherine felt she already knew the answer.

"We take care of ourselves," Henry didn't seem to find that strange. "The older ones look after the little ones."

"This is like Lord of the Flies," An mumbled.

"Not really," Henry replied with a head shake. "I read that book several years ago. They couldn't manage to govern themselves but we have. There are no conflicts here. We train together and grow up together as brothers. Each of us learn our family's weapon specialty. We're taught that our lives our in the hands of our brothers. There is some friendly competition between families but we're really one big family. There's no chaos."

Catherine brushed her hand against the pocket that held the dead boy's fake tooth, "Henry, do you know a young man who was sent on a mission recently? He was maybe a little older than you, seventeen, dark hair and green eyes. About 5'-10" tall. He and his team used Glock 17 weapons and wore the same military jungle camouflage I've seen some of the boys here wearing. He also had a mark on his right cheek near his earlobe. It was a scar, white puckered skin about an inch long."

Henry looked her in the eye, "Are they dead?"

She shared a glance with Steve and he nodded, both of them suspecting the boy could handle the news, "Yes. You knew them," Catherine guessed.

"Yes," he whispered. Henry cleared his throat, patting the baby's back though the little guy had drifted off to sleep a few minutes ago, "Nine of my cousins from four different handgun families were sent on a mission a few days ago. I don't know what the mission was, only those assigned are briefed and they don't find out until after they leave here," he sighed. Henry looked to Catherine directly, "Dante was the one you spoke of with the scar."

Catherine nodded slowly, "Dante," she whispered his name.

Steve rested his hand against Catherine's back again, knowing she was laying blame on herself over Dante's loss. "Henry, I'm sorry we had to be the ones to bring you such bad news. I wonder if we could ask you one more thing?" he watched the boy nod in agreement. "We're here to meet with Lawson about possibly hiring him to keep an eye on some important items for us, do you know of any such holding area? I thought we might be able to check out the facilities before we negotiate."

"Oh," Henry nodded with understanding, "Teachers don't usually have high enough security clearances to be down here unescorted, and they don't carry military packs," he pointed to the stairwell, "You have to go back up. The door you came through is private just for our quarters down here. Go to the next corridor over to your right and you'll find a similar staircase. It'll take you to the prison cells. The guards down there on night shift can show you around."

"How many guards work at night?" An inquired, "We wouldn't want to take them away from their jobs."

"Usually three guards are on duty at night, and their job is to help father in any way possible. You won't disturb them," Henry assured, "We haven't seen or heard from father in many months. I hope your meeting means he'll be visiting us as well," the young man smiled at the prospect.

"Thank you," Steve flashed the boy a smile, though he felt as deceptive as Lawson at the moment as he lied to the boy.

"I think you should put Jomi to bed," Catherine smiled as she ran her hand along the sleeping infant's soft cheek. She hated to leave either of them.

The teenager nodded, "It was nice to meet you, Catherine. I can't wait to tell my brothers, they'll be jealous."

They stayed put until the two boys disappeared from sight down the hallway.

"You've reached celebrity status with teenaged boys," Steve teased Catherine as the three of them took to the stairs.

She smiled sadly, her thoughts still on Henry and Jomi.

Steve put an arm about her waist and kissed the side of her head, "You okay?"

Her head shook, too afraid of the fragility of her voice at the moment.

Steve kept hold of Catherine but turned to the other woman with them as they made their way back up, "You've never been down there before?" he asked An.

"No," she replied softly, "I'd heard about sublevels, but I had no idea anything like this existed."

Catherine finally found her voice again, "Henry said they were rescued, but I'm guessing that's a lie Lawson fed them. You think they were abducted?"

"Fifty families of…" Steve tried to come up with a number, "Henry said his family was one of the larger ones with thirteen members. So say an average of 8? That would equal four hundred boys. All of them trained like soldiers, Lawson's own personal army."

The thought set Catherine's stomach to aching again.

"Haven't you ever wondered how he has so many loyal thugs?" An asked, "I don't think he recruits them or even pays them enough to do what they do."

"Loyalty is more powerful than money," Steve had to agree with her, "And who are you usually most loyal to?"

"Your family," Catherine uttered.

"Or those you consider family, those who raise and love you," An added as they reached the top and set off a motion sensor that opened the sliding door. "Most of the guys I've seen working with Lawson are older than teenagers," she recalled, "Wo Min must've started this part of it as well."

"Lawson was happy to inherit it all," Steve guessed as he guided them to the other corridor.

Catherine used the fake tooth again. When the door slid open she said a silent thank you to the dead boy whose name she now knew to be Dante.

He could tell his wife was troubled by something else she seemed reluctant to say. "Talk to me, Cath," Steve offered.

"Henry mentioned that Jomi was four months old, and that he was brought here near the end of November," she finally spit out her thoughts, "Evan is four months old and he was the same age as most of the babies at that Kappa auction on Black Friday," she looked Steve in the eye, "Did you notice anything about the babies at that auction?"

"Not really," Steve replied, "Other than the fact they were being sold."

"They were all girls," An spoke up.

Catherine turned to her. "Yes. You saw them?"

An nodded, "I was there earlier in the day, got into an argument with Wo Fat when I realized what was going on. He dragged me off the ship before the auction," she revealed.

"I didn't really think about it at the time," Catherine recalled, "I had a lot of other things on my mind that night… but they were all girls. That was why I had to wrap Evan in a pink blanket," she sighed, growing angrier by the second.

"Wo Fat told me unwanted babies were a nasty side effect of running a slave trade," An remembered, "But he claimed Lawson always made a profit off them."

Steve's hands balled into fists, "Maybe that was even written into the slave sales agreements. He'd take any babies produced."

"So you think…" Catherine tried to wrap her mind around it, her stomach nearly in her throat now, "You think he keeps the male babies and sells the girls?"

"He makes money off the girls and gains loyal soldiers out of the boys," Steve surmised. He glanced through a narrow vertical window in the door at the bottom of the stairs where they'd stopped. "And because human trafficking, baby selling and army creation isn't quite enough for him, apparently he has a side business of keeping prisoners for a price." Steve looked to his wife, "You still believe there's good in your Uncle Nick?"

She didn't hesitate to say, "No."

The answer surprised them both.

After talking to Henry and holding baby Jomi, knowing they lived in the sublevel of Lawson's massive compound, Catherine couldn't say yes.

"We're only likely to get one shot at this," Steve turned to An, "If we go in guns blazing and it turns out your parents aren't in there, or we don't have an escape plan… alarms will probably go off and it's very unlikely any of us leave here alive. We need to be smart. I'll chat up the guards, try to get a tour. You two need to look for any sort of surveillance, see if you can get eyes on their prisoners. If you spot your parents we attack, but not before."

"I'll follow your lead," An agreed.

Catherine nodded.

After finding the door locked, and not seeing anywhere to scan a microchip tooth, Steve pushed a round black button on the intercom to the right of the door.

"May I help you?" a male voice came over the speaker.

"I was told by a helpful young man that I could get a tour of your secure holding facility," Steve replied.

A face appeared at the window a moment later. He looked as young as the other boys they'd encountered at the compound.

The door was buzzed open and they stepped inside. Steve quickly assessed the layout. There were ten steel doors along one long wall and a small square guard room in the far left corner. That was it. Simple and efficient. It would be hard to sneak around. Everything was brightly lit with florescent tubes. Three guards stood at attention before them. Steve tried to stuff down his anger upon realizing the guards were all young men in uniform, none of them much older than Henry.

That didn't mean he planned to underestimate them, though, recalling the way the boys at their crash site had fought.

Steve greeted them with a military approach, "Who's in charge here?"

"I am," the boy to their left replied, taking a small step forward, hands at his sides. He had short black hair, light brown skin, and darker brown eyes. He was also the tallest of the three, and his green weapon patch revealed a pistol. "We can give you a tour. I just need to see your security access cards."

"Access cards?" Steve's muscles tightened, on alert.

The young man eyed him, "You needed them to open the door upstairs," he explained.

"Right, of course," Steve made a move to pat the pockets of his torn pants.

Catherine bit her lower lip, knowing that playing dumb was not her husband's strongest ability. She pulled on a cheerful smile and stepped forward. "You must've forgotten I have them," Catherine said, standing right in front of the other two young men. She swung her pack around and then purposely dropped it at their feet. "I'm so sorry," Catherine watched An use the distraction to sneak away. As the boys each bent down to retrieve Catherine's bag An made her way over to the security office.

A sandy-haired boy took hold of the pack and handed it to Catherine. "Some men have a great head for business," she smiled again, nodding her head toward Steve as she rummaged through her bag, "But they'd never be able to keep track of anything without an assistant."

"She's right," Steve shrugged, "I'm horribly unorganized."

The kid in charge frowned, "Seems she is, too," he noticed her fumbling through the pack, "You had to have just had them."

Catherine stood up straighter and looked over their shoulders. She watched as An shook her head from inside the guard office and then held up two fingers.

Steve caught sight of An as well. He hoped her two finger communication meant she needed a couple minutes of stalling. "We did just have them." He turned to his wife, "You know they should really put those cards on a lanyard. That way we could keep them around our necks so we wouldn't be putting them away."

"You're right," Catherine agreed, "I didn't think we'd need them again down here," she said as another glance was shared between her and Steve. "Maybe we should just carry our own lanyards from now on when we take these business trips." The two of them silently concluded that they needed to move things along. They shared an eye blink countdown.

One blink.

Two blinks.

The head boy smiled, "It doesn't matter," he said.

Catherine's muscles remained tense, still ready for a fight even though they hadn't gotten to the third blink, "It doesn't?"

He shrugged, "This is all a training exercise so I can let it slide, but you should keep track of those badges. You'll need them to get into your rooms tonight."

An jogged back over to join them, her absence seeming to have gone unnoticed by the guards.

Steve was a bit thrown by the discovery that the boys thought this was all an exercise, but he did his best to keep playing along, "I'm sorry. I hope we don't get you into any trouble for not being prepared. We were brought in last minute for this training session. That's no excuse, though. I'll be sure to mention you asked for them."

"Thank you," the boy directed them over to the first cell.

It broke Catherine's heart to hear the boy thank them. If he really was being trained to take on a position like that of most of Lawson's thugs, she knew he wasn't going to last long by being so polite. "What level are you in your training?" she wondered, "If you don't mind me asking?"

"This is the third month of guard training for all of us," he explained, waving a hand at the other two boys, "You have to be at least sixteen before you can start training and you graduate within a year. After graduation you get quarters up on the second level and are assigned to missions. You can also apply to work a full time security position or go out on your own. I heard father and Mr. Wo Fat own a large ship. I'd love to be assigned there. I've never seen the real ocean."

His words only served to cause Catherine more pain, "What's your name?"

"Khalil."

"I'm Catherine," she replied with a smile, wondering if her name would mean anything to the boy. She watched his blue eyes widen but he refrained from saying anything, "Do you know Henry?" she asked before realizing she didn't know if Henry had a last name, "I guess there could be more than one Henry living here."

"I know Henry," Khalil nodded, "There are no two names the same here, unless someone dies and then we can name a new brother in their honor. Henry's my age, we're close. Not as close as I am with my brothers, but we've trained together a lot. He opted to take on a caregiver position instead of joining the guards. When he got Jomi a few months ago he was very proud. Jomi's a handful, but Henry takes his role very seriously."

"So being a caregiver means he takes care of a baby and doesn't become a security guard like you will?" she was curious.

The boy shrugged, "It means he's agreed to watch over Jomi for at least the first three years of his life. After that he can still opt to join the guards program. But being a caregiver is harder than guards training," Khalil added, "And he still does physical conditioning and weapons training like we all do, on top of our school work."

"Seems like a lot for young boys," Catherine tried to get a read on how he felt about it.

"Not really, this is how we live," Khalil explained, "We're happy here, this is home."

Catherine looked over to see Steve and An exiting the last cell on the left. "They're all empty," Steve revealed to her, "Because this is only a training facility," he reiterated. She could see the frustration in his eyes, and heard it in his voice. They were wasting time in his mind. Catherine didn't quite see it that way.

Khalil stood at attention in front of Steve, "Were the cells clean and up to standards, sir?"

"Yes, they were," Steve recalled his time at military academy. As a teenager he hadn't been so much different from the boys standing before him now, eager to learn and eager to please. "Do these cells represent similar ones on the premises?"

"No, sir," Khalil responded, "But these are exact replicas of the ones used at our secure facilities around the world. Whichever facility you chose they will look like this."

"What about surveillance equipment used inside the cells?" An was curious. "Is it similar to what's used in the rest of this complex?"

"This complex isn't equipped with monitoring cameras anywhere other than this training facility," Khalil revealed. "Father would never spy on us, he trusts us. The video equipment used in the holding cells is basic. We don't need anything fancy to keep an eye on prisoners."

Steve found it hard to believe there were no other holding cells in the complex given all the doors they'd passed, "You're sure there are no cells on the upper levels?"

"Main level is offices, some maintenance, the medical wing and classrooms," the teenager informed him, "I'm surprised you weren't better informed," he went on, "Sublevels are for the cadets, caregivers and children; our living and training facilities. The second level is completely off limits to cadets like me. It's where the teachers, visitors and graduates are housed, there's also a hangar and other training facilities just for graduate use."

Steve nodded, "Lawson wanted me to quiz you," he covered up his obvious ignorance, "But I can tell you're very well informed, cadet. And the cells are immaculate. Nice work. I'll be sure to give you and your team here a good review."

"Appreciated, sir," Khalil smiled then resumed a military stance as he ordered his two fellow cadets back to the makeshift guard station. He paused, turned and called out, "Catherine, it was an honor to meet you." He smiled once more before ducking inside the office.

She returned his smile but her shoulders slumped as they moved toward the exit.

They waited until Khalil buzzed the door open. Steve made sure An and Catherine went through before he did.

"I really hate playing dumb," he grumbled as soon as the door closed, "Makes me feel like an idiot."

"I hate feeling like all these boys have been told some sort of strange fairytale about me," Catherine sent him a sideways glance, "I think that trumps feeling stupid."

He nodded, "Do you suppose Henry lied to us about the holding cells in the training facility, or maybe he just didn't know the truth? Maybe he thinks they're real?"

"My gut tells me he wasn't lying. But look where my gut has gotten us so far," Catherine shrugged. "Khalil said he and Henry are friends, but maybe Khalil has been sworn to secrecy about his training. I don't know," a slightly defeated sigh escaped her lips, "This place makes me sad. I want to go grab that baby and run out the front door with him."

Steve flashed her a sympathetic look, but he knew they needed to think more productively. "Seems the only likely place for An's parents is the second level. So we're back to searching out stairwells. Even if we find one, Khalil said the cadets didn't have access up there. We could be sucking air with that tooth microchip of yours."

"Actually, Khalil said the graduates had access," she remembered, "Dante was sent on a major mission. Seems to reason he was a graduate," Catherine concluded.

He realized she was right, "He also mentioned a hangar. Those troops that showed up at our crash site parachuted out of something, I'm betting on a heavy transport helicopter. That mode of transportation could very helpful to us getting away from here."

They exited the door at the top of the stairs and Steve looked around.

"There aren't any other doors along this wall," Catherine noticed.

"Both stairwells leading down are situated along the north end of the main level," Steve noted as he turned toward the south end of the building, "Doesn't it make sense that an off-limits stairwell would be at the opposite end of the building?"

Catherine and An followed him and his hunch.

Sure enough they found a similar door at the south end of the complex, and the tooth chip gave them access.

The second floor was also carpeted, but not a cozy open space like the sublevel had been. There was another maze of long corridors with many doors.

All of the door locks were the type of scanner that Peter's tooth had worked on, but as they moved down the corridor none of them opened for Catherine. "They could be individualized for each graduate," she guessed, "Maybe they each have their own private apartment?"

"Which means at least one of these should open for us," An concluded.

Only a few minutes later one of the doors did slide open, but it wasn't one they'd tried.

Steve instantly spun to his right toward the sound of the mechanical whoosh-hiss of the door.

A plain-clothed, bearded man stepped partially into the corridor a few doors down and pulled a gun. He spotted Steve and fired.

Flattening himself against the wall to avoid the shot, Steve drew his weapon and fired. His bullet plugged the guy in the chest, dead center.

"Damn it," Steve had been aiming to wing the guy in his left shoulder, but the man had shifted.

His victim dropped with a thud, body falling backward into the room he'd just exited.

Even though he moved quickly down the hallway, Steve approached with caution. The guy's large booted feet were blocking the door from sliding shut all the way. Steve stepped over the man and dropped to one knee beside him, checking for a pulse. He didn't find one. Catherine and An crowded into the entry behind Steve as he studied the guy's face. Steve was glad to know he hadn't killed another teenager, but he suddenly realized he recognized the man.

"Arturo Alves," Steve revealed, "His brother Fernando was the knife wielder at the Olympics. Arturo and Martin Alves took credit for the attack on behalf of the BSWR union."

An stared down at the man; his dark face cover by a thick beard, "He doesn't look familiar to me," she said, "Not anyone I ever saw working with Lawson or Wo Fat."

"I'm guessing he looks familiar to your parents," Steve replied, taking possession of the man's gun. He stood and faced An, "Arturo is the one we saw in a video sent to us by SDPD. He was spotted driving around your parent's neighborhood before they were abducted. I think you might actually be right about your parent's being here."

Steve hesitated a second before he finally handed Arturo's gun over to An and motioned for her and Catherine to stay behind him.

He ventured further into the space, his gun out in front of him again.

Catherine was right behind him with her weapon at the ready.

"Mama?" An called out as she trailed them. "Papa…"

000

Catherine pulled the netting around their bed closed and flopped down beside him.

As she shifted onto her right side to face him, Catherine reflected on their day – their climb and his thoughtful picnic. Rappelling down the rock face afterward had been a rush; slightly scary yet also oddly relaxing. Curling up next to Steve was much more relaxing. He was shirtless, in black boxer briefs, with a book propped open in his hands. She couldn't deny being extremely turned on by the sight of him half-naked with a book. She also couldn't deny her hand's desire to touch his bare chest.

Her fingers gently traced over small puckers of flesh that had clearly been left behind by electrical burns. Steve pretended not to notice.

She suddenly reached out and snatched the book out of his hands. "Where'd you get this?"

"I was looking through you pack for a bandage," Steve held his left pinky finger out in front of her, focusing on the trivial injury that he'd covered by a rather small and flexible flesh-colored bandage, "I cut it on the rappel," he explained.

"So you just go snooping through people's bags?" Catherine thumbed through the thin book.

"You were in the shower," Steve defended. "Imagine my surprise when I found a book in your bag," he fake-gasped. "And I think abducting my favorite SEAL t-shirt trumps me looking for a bandage. Lucky for you I'm willing to overlook your act of indiscretion," Steve leaned in and stole a quick kiss.

Catherine wacked his shoulder with the book, "Being charming doesn't let you off the hook for going through my stuff."

"I think I'll reference my stolen t-shirt again and call us even," Steve grinned, "It's a book of poetry, Cath," he shrugged, "Not like it's your diary. I know I tease you about being a book nerd, but I have to be honest…" Steve pressed his palm against her belly, rubbing lightly across the bare flesh were her tank top rode up, "I find it very sexy."

She pointed the book at him, "Stop being charming. It's distracting."

He nodded, his hand snaking around her waist. "Is this a bad time to mention I spotted a box of condoms in your bag, a very large box? Fifty count."

"Oh, God," Catherine groaned, burying her face against his shoulder, "That was my bunkmate Amy's doing. I asked if she had any and she insisted I take the whole box."

"I approve of Amy's thinking," Steve chuckled, kissing her neck, "You don't have to be embarrassed about the condoms or the book. I'm all for safety and poetry."

Her cheeks still felt horribly flushed, but Catherine lifted her head to face him.

"Remember when we went fishing in Florida and I told you my dad used to read us poems when we were little?" Steve asked.

She nodded, "Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air's salubrity."

"Of course you remember," Steve kissed her rosy cheek, knowing she didn't forget much. He reached for the book in her hand and smiled when she gave it up willingly. "I only made it through one in here. It was page 12," Steve flipped to it, "Oliver Wendell Holmes."

"Homesick in Heaven," she knew the one.

"I have to be honest, most of it I don't really get. They're angels, and they're homesick," Steve shrugged.

Her lips curled; amused that he was trying to relate to her book and, by extension, her. But her smile faded before it could truly take hold. She knew what he was doing. Catherine closed the book and looked him in the eye, "Was there a funeral for Jenna Kaye?" She felt his muscles tighten as she asked the question. He hadn't talked much about North Korea, but she couldn't help worry. Their phone conversation after he'd returned had been very brief.

"Joe White keeps dancing around the truth with this Shelburne stuff, but he took the fall for all of us after what happened in North Korea. And he arranged for her body to be sent home," Steve revealed as he watched her gently toss the book aside. "Her parents can bury her."

Catherine studied him a moment, "I know you felt betrayed by what she did, but…"

"You don't have to tiptoe around me, Cath," he insisted, "I don't want that. You can ask me outright about North Korea and I'll tell you. That place brought up a lot of bad memories. I couldn't stop thinking about Freddie most of the time I was there, and… I don't think I can see Kelly or meet Emma. At least not until…" he trailed off. "I can't face them until I've brought Freddie home. And that's all I want to say about it right now," he insisted, "Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry."

His thumb gently smoothed across her collar bone, "You don't have to be sorry. Just be here with me. Just relax with me. You're not relaxed, and I'm afraid that's my fault."

"It's not," she responded, burrowing further into his embrace, "I'm relaxed."

"What's wrong, Cath?" he whispered in her ear, arms wrapped around her waist again, not believing she was relaxed.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Yeah? Didn't sound very convincing there. How's work?" he wondered.

"Work's okay," she wanted to laugh at how he was trying to push her to talk when he wouldn't do the same. She almost wanted to call him on it. Instead she decided to talk, to confide in him. Maybe it would help them both. "I thought I was done with all this, being pulled off one duty and sent to the middle of the ocean again," she finally touched on subject matter that she'd briefly brought up on their drive to the cabin. "I only had a couple months on land and then right back into it."

He hadn't realized the additional duty had been that upsetting to her. She'd kept a lid on it until now.

"That happens when you're the best at what you do, people need your help, they value your skill… puts you in demand," Steve reasoned, watching her nod along. "Maybe you should try not being so good at what you do then they'll let you go back to Oahu," he joked, running a finger down her forearm, "But we both know you love your work too much, and are too dedicated to the Navy, and you're far too honorable to ever welch on your duties."

She nodded again, loving that he understood her. It was still nice to get a few things off her chest, "I just felt really ready for a change. And now all my stuff is in a storage unit in Honolulu, not that I even have that much stuff," Catherine sighed, "But it makes me feel scattered."

He took her hand and kissed her palm, "You know what the T in T.A.D. stands for?" Steve asked, briefly pausing before he answered the question, "It stands for temporary," he stressed the last word, "And it's a funny thing about temporary duty, means it won't last forever. Am I right?"

Catherine smiled.

"I miss your smile when you don't smile," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her softly.

Her eyes closed as she kissed him back, drawing out the union, her hand pressed against his neck as she tried to memorize every detail about his lips.

Steve broke away and could see she still seemed kind of down, "Maybe we should think about something else, like the fact that we still have another two nights here. Or we could close our eyes and remember that gorgeous view up on the summit, which you did a badass job of climbing this afternoon."

"It was a lovely view," she agreed, remembering the city panorama, their peaceful picnic, and the nap they'd taken after eating, "Still not as good as Waimanalo," Catherine recalled her favorite spot on the island, "Although I have also grown rather fond of the view from your bedroom."

"Yeah, what view would that be, of the beach?" he teasingly asked.

"The view of your bed with you in it," she wasn't afraid to feed his ego a little. Catherine did wish he'd open up more, but she also very much loved their silly and sometimes naughty banter. She missed that when they were separated, along with his sexy behind and gorgeously sculpted chest which she allowed her fingertips to glide across again. The scars were just another part of him, and she cared about and admired all of him.

Steve grinned contentedly, "My bed gets lonely without you in it."

"It doesn't even know me that well," she countered.

"But it has seen all of you, and it'd like to get to know you better," he chuckled.

"Sounds kind of like a perverted bed," her smile returned fully.

"Very perverted bed," he attested, "And lonely. Did I mention the bed was very lonely? The bed misses you."

"The bed, huh?" Catherine shook her head.

"Yes, the bed," Steve maintained.

Her eyes couldn't help wander as his hands did the same, "Looks like Steve Jr. missed me, too," she noticed.

"Steve Jr.?" he scrunched his nose, but pressed a few soft kisses against her neck, "That's something you would name a kid."

"Little Steve?" she suggested.

"Watch it," Steve shook his head even as his lips moved upward to nibble her earlobe, "Pretty sure we both know there's no truth in that."

She licked her lips and closed her eyes as his warm breath against her neck caused her belly to tighten, "Not little, not at all," she agreed, "In fact… much more like… Everest."

"Everest?" he pulled back to look at her.

"Mount Everest…" Catherine grinned, "You know, highest peak in the world."

"Everest is good," he resumed course with his lips, trailing them down her neck and across her shoulder.

Catherine chuckled, "Yeah, you like that?"

"I do," he fiddled with the hem of her tank top. "You know it only seems fair I get to name your…" his right hand moved to her thigh.

"That's a little different," she caught his wandering hand and brought it to her lips. Catherine suckled his wrist, "It's not really a… thing."

He hated to admit he liked the way she kissed his wrist. It seemed way too girly a thing to enjoy, but he did. "You're right, it's more like a… a destination," his eyes lit up, hands at her waist, "A warm, cozy place that feels like… relaxing, like a vacation, like sleeping in…" he kissed her neck again, mumbling, "When in Rome…"

She pushed him away a little, "You're naming my nether region Rome?"

"No, Mumbai," he laughed, "Because of this, the two of us here," Steve waved a hand between them, "We're making it work, right? We're together this weekend because we made a plan and we want to…" he swallowed nervously, "Home is what I was trying to say, Catherine… being together in Mumbai, this feels like coming home to you." He let those serious thoughts drift as she kissed his chest, her hands skimming downward over the curve of his butt. He groaned appreciatively, "I've missed this… missed you."

His second admission of missing her caused her heart to constrict, "Careful, you're sounding kind of attached there."

He shrugged, "Maybe I am."

"I'm sure you get by when I'm not around," Catherine pulled away a little. He'd just confessed to missing her again, and to thinking about coming home to her. Yet she still swiftly retreated to the place in her head where she'd promised not to get her hopes up.

Steve sat forward, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Catherine maintained retreat, "That woman at the airport yesterday seemed very smiley and taken with you."

"What woman?"

"The one you were walking and talking with when you came through the gate."

His brow creased, "You mean, Meera… with the four kids?"

She nodded.

"Meera is happily married," Steve responded, somewhat amused that she was worried about a woman he'd just met on a plane, "She lives in Beijing, which is where I changed plans. Her two girls, Misha and Dani, sat next to me along the window side. Meera and the boys were right across the aisle from us," he explained. "I chatted with the girls a bit, let them take turns looking out the window. Meera was thankful of my company for them on the trip since she had to deal with a toddler and cranky baby most of the flight."

Catherine smiled as he spoke about his interactions with the children.

"Meera grew up in Mumbai," he continued, "She's here to visit her ailing mother. Her husband couldn't make the trip due to work so she piled all four kids onto a flight and was rather exhausted. Meera was wearing jeans and a t-shirt when she got on the plane, but her mother is very traditional so she knew she had to change before seeing her. It was easier for her to change on the plane since I agreed to watch the kids. Otherwise she would've had to corral them all into an airport bathroom after landing."

"Not an easy task," Catherine guessed as she recalled her brief restroom encounter with an impatient woman.

"She was grateful that I'd stayed with the kids, she even wanted to pay me. I told her no, of course. Then she not-to-subtly mentioned having a single sister who lives on Maui," he chuckled. "I politely told her I was on my way to visit someone special and that was the end of our encounter."

"But if there have been other women... you can tell me," Catherine persisted, "When you wanted me to help on that treasure driving case you seemed hesitant to ask me out for dinner. And that woman you work with, Lori. You talk about her a lot."

He sighed, "Yes, probably because Lori and I work together every day, and we're friends. We hang out sometimes, work out together occasionally. And there may have been some tiny flirtation between us at first but… no, nothing has ever happened there. And won't."

"Why not?" Catherine asked, "Is she a bad kisser?"

"Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?" Steve wondered if his earlier confession had spooked her, or if it was something else, "Are you jealous?"

She shook her head, "Of course not."

"Right," he wasn't buying it, a grin creeping across his face, "So if I was to say I wanted to be able to see other woman, go on dates… you'd be okay with that?"

"We've never claimed to be exclusive," she shrugged, "I said this could be… not serious, no strings. And you know I'm away a lot, so…"

His smile returned, "No, we never have claimed exclusivity," Steve chuckled.

"Now you're laughing at me?" she frowned.

"No, I'm not laughing at you. I promise," he took her hand, "I'm laughing at the jealous and uncertain evil twin Catherine who just showed up for a moment," Steve joked, but his tone turned very serious, "North Korea was difficult because of the memories of Freddie and dealing with Wo Fat, but it was also… when I was chained up by Wo Fat I kept thinking about you and the promise we'd made to meet up here. There just aren't any other women. I don't want there to be other women."

Catherine did her best to hold back tears, trying not to think about how close she'd come to losing him. She brushed aside those heavy emotions and allowed herself to jump back into the moment and just enjoy being with him. Catherine pounced on him, pushed him onto his back, straddled him and even gently pinned his arms down with her knees. "You're a very sweet guy to have helped that woman with her children on the plane, a good guy."

"Nah, I don't want to be a good guy," he looked up at her, "Good guys finish last."

"Not true at all," her hair draped across his shoulder as she lowered her lips to his chest, "And… preferably… we finish together," she winked.

His head shook, "Naughty," Steve's body reacted fully to her ministrations.

She felt him try to take control of the situation, but her knees pressed a bit harder against his arms, her palms splayed against his bare chest. Catherine resumed course. She licked along his torso, tongue flicking across his left nipple and downward toward his bellybutton.

"You know… I…" he took in a sharp breath as her lips continued their pleasurable assault. "I heard that tiger sightings in this park have become extremely rare. Guess I'm lucky to have spotted one," Steve's hips jolted as she neared the junction of his pelvis.

Catherine sat back a little, her butt against his thighs as she slowly and deliberately unpinned his arms. "Rawr!" a playful growl escaped her throat. Leaning forward again, she whispered enticingly into his ear, "Welcome to Mumbai, Everest."

His freed hands reached for her waist, swiftly flipping her onto her back.

000

Catherine could hear the childlike fear in An's voice as she called out, hoping for a response from her parents.

The space didn't appear to be any sort of holding cell, more like a small apartment. Open living room, dining area and kitchen with a hallway off to the left. It seemed to be a combination of sublevel and main floor styles. The walls were light gray, tile floors, and other cold accents such as a glass-top dining table and stainless steel surfaces. But there were also warm touches, colorful woven rugs and a few hardwood pieces of furniture, black walnut cabinets and bookcases.

Steve turned right, maneuvering carefully around a corner into the kitchen.

"There's blood over here," Catherine called out from the living room, glancing down at a shattered glass coffee table.

"I've got more blood in the hall," An announced. Steve and Catherine hurried into the hallway just as An slowly pushed open a door to her left. "Papa," she whispered, disappearing inside. Catherine followed the woman into what she discovered to be a bathroom. An rushed to her father who was kneeling beside the bathtub, slightly hunched over.

"An?" the man raised his silver head of hair toward the sound of her voice, "Niu, are you really here?"

She went to her knees beside him, "Papa, what happened to you?"

Catherine noticed the blood dripping down the side of his face, a nasty cut near his right eye. As she removed her pack, Catherine watched Steve briefly stick his head into the bathroom to check on them. He continued past them down the hall. She dug through her bag for the wet wipes she'd gotten plenty use out of so far. Catherine handed the whole package to An along with the small first aid kit she'd taken from the woman's office.

"Cath?"

She heard Steve calling her from down the hall. Catherine left An with her father and stuck her head into the hallway, gun back in her right hand. Steve was standing by an open door at the end of the hall. He caught her attention, waving her over with a silent hand gesture. "What's wrong?" she could see the worry etched across his brow.

He pushed the bedroom door open a little more, "Guessing that's An's mother," Steve said, pointing across the room to a queen sized bed. "I saw her once in a photograph."

Catherine stepped past him and bit down nervously on her bottom lip as she walked across the room, gun tucked into her back waistband again. She squatted in front of the slightly gray haired woman whose dark eyes were wide open. A light blue blanket was draped across her legs and waist; her arms lay askew across her chest. Catherine gingerly reached for her neck, but the woman's left hand shot out and caught her wrist, "I'm not dead yet," she rasped, "You can't take me… yet."

As gently as possible, Catherine rested a hand against the woman's frail fingers, "I'm not going to hurt you, Irene," she smiled reassuringly. "Your daughter, An, is with us. She led us here so we could take you home. Would you like to go home?"

The woman's eyes remained wide open but she looked completely lost in thought. Her hand dropped, every bit of her strength gone as suddenly as it had appeared, "An," she whispered in the same raspy voice, "My sweet baby girl, An… what did they do to you?"

It was obvious the woman was confused. Catherine felt the woman's forehead. She didn't seem to have a fever. "Irene?" she tried to get the woman to respond again, "Can you tell me what's wrong with you? Were you injured in some way? Did the man who was guarding this room beat you?"

"I kept him from taking her," Peter Zhou stood in the doorway with An by his side.

Catherine looked over her shoulder, still holding the older woman's hand gently. Steve turned to the man, "Taking her where?" he asked.

"She's been ill for weeks," Peter said as An helped him over to the bed. The cut on his head had been hastily patched. "But I've been afraid to let her out of my sight. She has little strength, doesn't want to eat much. I asked if there was a doctor he could bring here. He refused, knocked me into that table. I'm sure he could've complied, that bastard," Peter turned to his daughter, "Apologies, niu," he spoke in a softer tone to her. "He said we'd die here anyway and what did it matter? That man has no heart," Peter concluded.

"That man is dead now," Steve let him know. "A fact that either means your worries are over, or we're about to have more guards on us at any time. Either way, we all need to get out of here. Do you think she can walk?" he asked the older man.

Peter nodded, "Yes, if I assist her," he began to pull the blanket off his wife.

"An, help your parents," Steve ordered as he took Catherine by the arm. They walked down the short hallway back to the bathroom where Catherine grabbed her bag. "I'm not sure we'll make it back to the jeep with her in this bad of shape," he voiced his concern, "I'm not even confident the jeep will still be there if we make it back."

"How about the hangar Khalil mentioned?" she suggested, pulling her pack on.

"Exactly what I was thinking," he gave a quick nod. "Keep your weapon in hand," Steve instructed, "We need to stay sharp."

They met An and her parents in the hallway. "Neither one of them have shoes," An revealed, propping her frail mother with one arm and wielding Arturo's gun with her free hand.

"We're hoping we don't have to take them far," Catherine relayed as Steve ushered her out of the apartment, both of them stepping over the dead man.

An helped her parents maneuver over the obstacle and Catherine and Steve kept watch in the hallway. As soon as they were all out of the apartment, Steve pushed Arturo's booted feet inside the apartment and was glad to see that the door slid shut automatically. "Maybe that'll help cover our tracks for a little while," Steve hoped. He glanced right in the direction they'd come from and then looked left to where the corridor eventually turned a corner, "This way," he lead the group left.

Peter guided Irene with An's help. Catherine and Steve walked a few steps behind the family.

"I think I'm starting to get a feel for this building's layout," Steve spoke to Catherine, "An's office and those fake holding cells are along the west side of the building," he realized, "The sublevel living quarters are to the north, but face east. We walked down a lot of stairs to get there and to the training cells, more stairs than it should've taken to go down a few stories. I'm thinking that waterfall we heard originates from above the sublevel and runs down the east side, a way to hide it," he concluded.

"That means this whole place is probably situated on or very near a cliff side," Catherine understood where he was going, "And it would make sense for the hangar to be cut into the side of the building that opens onto the cliff. That would eliminate the need for a helipad on top of the building that could be seen from overhead," Catherine guessed.

"Exactly, which is why we're headed east," he concluded before glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one had snuck up on them. Steve didn't spot anyone, which should've made him happy. Instead it worried him, "I have a bad feeling about the lack of security around here," Steve aired his concern.

Catherine nodded.

He reached for her hand, the other still gripping his weapon, "You okay?"

A weary headshake was given as she sighed, "I'm pretty sure I don't even know the meaning of okay right now. A moment ago I thought for sure An's mother was dead."

"She's not, though," Steve squeezed her hand, knowing she cared too much sometimes, "We've got her now and we're getting out of here," he did his best to sound reassuring, but he could tell her thoughts were drifting. He tried to think of something to distract her. "What you told Henry about Evan crying for hours that night… did that really happen?"

"Yeah," Catherine whispered.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he said regretfully, "Evan only cried for a short time the first night I watched him and I didn't know what to do."

"Hey, no apologies," she reminded him, "Not for the stuff we have no control over. Besides," Catherine smiled for his benefit, "You were there with us that night. I could hear your voice in my head. I heard you say you missed my smile when I didn't smile. So I smiled for the nugget, and I spoke softly to him. I talked to him about you, told him that you loved the ocean and always smelled like saltwater. I told him about the night we met, told him about Bagram and Bangkok… and Mumbai."

"Mumbai," Steve grinned. "At least that was one good trip we took together," he recalled. "So you have somewhere in mind that's cold and snowy?"

"Nope," she admitted, "Just thought I'd throw the idea out there."

"I like it. I'll be there," he gave her hand another tight squeeze, "Whenever, wherever."

She liked that he was thinking past their current situation, liked that his tone was hopeful. But her thoughts wavered again, "I should've been better prepared for this."

"We," he stressed, "We did come prepared, Cath," Steve wouldn't let her take the fall. "We were prepared to sneak into a small house in a soybean field, not a fortress with hundreds of armed teenagers. There's no way we could've predicted this."

"Maybe not," she gave in, "But sometimes I think we should just paint bright shiny targets on our backs and make it easier for the bad guys." Catherine sighed, trying to regroup, "There's something off about this whole place," she voiced her unease, "I don't think these kids know about Lawson being in jail. They all talk about father like he'll be back any day now. Henry said he hadn't been around in two months. Doesn't Lawson call them, email them?"

He knew she didn't really believe what she'd said about targets on their backs. Exhaustion, lack of proper nutrition and setbacks were causing doubts to creep in. Steve tried to keep her on track even though he was exhausted as well, "There were no visible TVs, computers or even radios in the sublevel living area. And I haven't seen a single cell phone or landline anywhere in this building," Steve noted, "Other than electronic locks and books it's like these kids are living in the dark ages."

"They're obviously very smart, I think they must have some computer and other technology training, but… you might be right," Catherine agreed, "They probably don't have much knowledge of the outside world other than what they're taught inside these walls, which might intentionally be skewed toward keeping them sheltered. If they don't have internet or TV news then maybe they have no idea Lawson is in jail or Wo Fat is dead."

A sudden, all too familiar, sound of gunfire rang out from behind them.

Steve wrapped an arm about Catherine's waist, their well-honed reflexes kicking in. They ducked as a bullet zinged past their heads and embed in the wall to their right.

"We've got company," Steve needlessly announced before turning and laying down cover fire. He pressed his back against the wall and eased along it. Catherine helped An and her parents pick up the pace. Their group rounded a corner to safety, at least for a moment or two.

"An!"

It was a ,parents pick up the wall and ugh he was about to drop as well, "e boys again. This is a . Being with theman's voice that called out from behind them, echoing down the long corridor.

An paled considerably upon hearing him.

He shouted again, "If you wanted your parents back you should've just asked me!"

Steve's brow furrowed as he concentrated both on the sound of the voice and on their surroundings, "Why does that guy sound familiar to me?" he wondered as they continued east.

"We only wanted to secure your position with us, An!" the voice rang out again, "They can go free now if you agree to return!"

"Who is he?" Catherine asked.

"The man who tied the ropes," An whispered.

They rounded another corner, reaching the last corridor on the upper level. "There," Steve pointed to the only door on the right side of the hallway.

Catherine rushed toward the door, planning to use her microchip tooth again, but the lock was different. There was nowhere to scan anything.

An let go of her mother and stepped forward. She examined the large keypad that stuck out several inches from the door. It was clearly unlike the flat panel touchscreen locks that they'd come across on the lower level. "It's a simple combination lock," An realized with surprise.

Catherine eyed the woman, "That still means there's a code, right? Do you know the code?"

Her head shook as she tried her office door code. It didn't work but she wasn't defeated. "This lock isn't connected to the other system. I can re-wire it," she allowed Catherine to take hold of her mother and motioned her father over to help. An asked Steve for his knife so she could pry the control box open.

"Doesn't make sense," Steve grumbled as he handed over his knife, "They wouldn't have the least amount of security on a hangar door. I must be wrong."

"Maybe they don't need high security on the hangar door," Catherine disagreed, "Cadets don't have access to this level. And at least some of the graduates must know how to fly because Henry mentioned nine boys being sent on that mission. We only counted eight and we know they parachuted in, meaning one boy flew them."

"I hope you're right," Steve said as he kept watch for the man who An wouldn't tell him about.

Peter pulled out the wires as An studied the door's locking mechanism.

"Vichy," Steve spoke to Catherine as he realized who the voice belonged to, "Jared Vichy, the CIA agent who was meant to be helping us find Lawson's hideout. I only talked to him on the phone a few times, but…" he shook his head, "We traded two psychopaths for an opportunistic agent," Steve lamented. "CIA has a fickle history, internal lies and deception, take my mother for example," he sighed, "Vichy probably wasn't just helping Lawson dodge the authorities for a little side money."

"He wants his own share," Catherine figured, "Or maybe the whole business," she harkened back to their earlier conversation.

"Only good thing about this," Steve shrugged, "If he was behind the jet's sloppy sabotage job then maybe we stand a chance against him," he remained hopeful.

Another gunshot rang out from just around the corner.

"Shit," Steve mumbled, his hopes somewhat dashed as he laid down more cover fire. They didn't have a great deal of bullets to start with and he hated wasting them without having a decent line of sight to the enemy. He crept silently back down the corridor and peeked around the corner. Steve spotted a tall, thin man in his mid-forties who was flanked by several camo-clad young men, "Clearly some of these boys are loyal to him," he realized.

"Got it," An declared as the door hissed open.

Catherine helped Peter with Irene. Steve fired another distracting shot before he rejoined the group.

They found themselves standing atop a metal grate catwalk that ran the entire back wall of a large hangar. It spanned at least two hundred feet, with concrete floor and walls. Two huge mechanized rolling steel doors along the east wall were over fifty feet tall. The hangar was divided into three bays with thick concrete columns defining each space. The middle bay seemed to be for maintenance and the right bay was empty, but the left bay gave them a reason to be hopeful.

"You better be operational," Steve said as he spotted the small black and white helicopter. He helped An's parents down the stairs and over to the helicopter, but when he looked around for his wife Steve realized she hadn't followed them down. "Catherine?"

"She closed the door!" Catherine shouted down to him from over the catwalk's railing.

He hurried back up; his leg feeling like it was on fire from the effort, "What do you mean?" Steve glanced around, "Where'd An go?"

A finger was pointed to the door as she tried to fiddle with the controls on their side. "I turned around and she was gone," Catherine sighed, "She locked us in."

Steve tried the door several times, even putting his shoulder into it though he knew all the doors were far too heavy to kick down or force open, "She must have a plan," he took his wife's hand and practically dragged her down the stairs. Steve then pointed her toward the helicopter he'd found.

"Can you fly that?" Catherine asked, glancing upward to see if An had come back yet.

He eyed her worriedly, "If it'll fly, I can fly it," Steve replied, doing a quick check on the fuel level, "That is a Robinson R22, Cath. They use these things mostly for training new pilots, which is what I'm guessing they use it for here," he said as he helped Peter and Irene over to the co-pilot's side of the craft. "Only bad thing is we're going to be very cozy in this two-seater," he declared, having to carefully wedge the frail older woman onto her husband's lap.

"Where is my daughter?" Peter finally asked.

Catherine pulled on a smile, "An said she'd meet us," she lied reassuringly, "There's a jeep she'll get to."

Steve found his wife still staring up at the door An had locked, "Cath, it's time to go," he squeezed her shoulder, "Now."

She faced him and nodded, "You're right. As soon as you get An's parents somewhere safe you should call HQ, get them to round up CIA or the local authorities. I'm not even sure who has jurisdiction out here," Catherine chewed her lower lip, "And please make sure you ask about Evan. I know he's probably too little to even care that we're gone, but…"

"We," he corrected her, "We'll do all that together when we get An's parents out of her."

Her left hand motioned to the aircraft, "It's not big enough for all of us. You just said it's only a two-seater."

"No," his head shook, "No way, Catherine. I am not leaving you here. Capacity wise it'll be tight, but the weight shouldn't be a problem. Those two look practically starved to death and you barely weigh anything. You'll sit on my lap," he tried desperately to smile but couldn't, "It'll be sexy."

Catherine placed her hands on either side of his prickly cheeks, "You're cute when you worry, but I'm not going with you."

"No," the word came out harsher, "Cath, we promised to get her parents out of here and that's what we're doing. She saved you from Wo Fat, now we've saved them from this place. Our part of this deal is fulfilled. Now stop wasting time and let's go."

"I can't just leave her, Steve."

"Yes, you can," he insisted. "I know she didn't tell us where to find the files on Lawson and I get that you need him locked away for good, but we can figure out another way to get the evidence we need on him. Maybe the team has already found another way. Heck, all we have to do is come back here and have every boy in this place testify against him. Done. As for An, if she plays things right Vichy might believe she's still on his side."

She took a deep breath, "After the way she reacted to hearing his voice. That man obviously did something to her in the past and… this isn't even about An. It's about these boys."

"Like you said, we get away from here and find help," he was growing more desperate with each passing second, "And then we come back and get them out of here."

Catherine spotted a door over his shoulder. She walked toward it without warning.

"Cath!" he chased after her, clasping her arm.

She shrugged away from him and tried the door, using the tooth chip again. It swung open into a hallway. "This heads north, maybe a shortcut."

"Come on," Steve took her by the arm again, physically dragging her back to the helicopter.

"What if Vichy has a plan to transport these boys tonight?" she argued, getting free of his hold again, "He might've been sloppy with the jet crash, but that doesn't mean he'll screw up this time. They could all be gone by the time we get back. Or worse, what if we bring in an army of CIA or… whoever… what if these boys react the only way they've been taught, by fighting back. They've obviously been trained to defend this place. This is the only life they know. This is their home. They'll fight for it."

"CIA will send a lot of agents," Steve countered.

"And they will end up killing a lot of these boys because they won't be taken prisoner," Catherine maintained, "You already saw that out there with the small tactical team. With that kid, Dante," the boy's name was a sorrowful whisper on Catherine's lips. "Storming in here… what's that going to do, what will that accomplish?"

"Catherine, I'm not letting you go back in there alone," he sighed, "I'll go."

Her head shook, "I won't be alone."

"Oh, excuse me, you and An… that makes me feel so much better," Steve groaned. He lowered his voice so her parents wouldn't overhear, "She could already be dead."

"And you're stalling," Catherine realized. "You have to go. You have to fly that thing. I can't."

Steve glanced over at Peter, "You tinker with mechanical things, don't you? You ever fly one of these?"

"Sorry, no," Peter was much too focused on his ill wife to care about their argument.

Catherine looked her husband in the eye, "Steve, you know I can't just walk away from this right now. Not when those boys need our help. How many have already died in all this? Ambassador Silva and her family, that entire Paris flight, Cathleen and Chase, Pam… Billy…" she still felt the weight of all those deaths.

"Cath, that's not on you," he insisted.

"I know you think I shouldn't feel guilty, but I can't help it. Steve, every boy in here…" she waved a hand toward the door she'd just found, "I don't see them. I don't see the blonde hair or the black hair, green eyes or blue. I see an adorable, chubby baby face with soft brown hair that always sticks out on the left side. I see a goofy toothless smile. I see your chin and nose, with my brown eyes. I see my nugget. I see our son, Steve. He's in all of their faces and I will not leave them."

"Come on, Cath," he had a feeling he was fighting a losing battle, "What makes you think the two of you can go up against them?"

She shrugged, "Like you said, maybe An can charm Vichy. And I've already got a small bit of report with Henry and Khalil. Vichy clearly has a bunch of them in his pocket so I doubt we can fight them, but I'll try to bide our time until you get back here."

"What if you can't? What if you get caught?" He watched her shrug in response, "Do you have any idea how much I hate this idea?"

"I think I might," she nodded, "You know all I want right now is to go home and see Evan, but I can't do that knowing these kids are here. I can't leave them. And you know it's the right thing to do," Catherine insisted, "Steve, you're in a lot of pain, I can tell you are. I know you won't admit it, and I know you can fight through it," she eyed him. "But I'm the best person for this job right now. I can move faster, I can…

"Yes, I know," he cut her off, "You're right. We can forgo the whole speech about how you're just as capable as I am. I've already given in, doesn't mean I'm happy about leaving you behind," Steve walked over to a nearby work bench in the middle bay. There were a bunch of spare parts, tools and something else useful he'd spotted, "Here," he snatched up two handheld CB radios. Steve gave her one. "There's a radio in the chopper, too, but I'll keep this handheld in case I need it. We can keep in touch," he insisted.

"The range can't be very good on these," she examined the radio.

"Couple miles at least, when I get back we'll be within range," he figured.

"How will I know it's you?" Catherine asked, "We can't use our names in case Vichy or his boys are monitoring."

Steve grinned, "You'll know it's me," he pushed a lock of sweaty hair behind her ear, "I'll find you two wherever you end up by the time I get back here."

It didn't go unnoticed by Catherine that he'd included An in his promise to find them. She clipped the radio to the left side of her waistband and then grabbed something from the front pocket of her pack, "Take this with you," she handed him her cell phone.

"Why?" he held it with suspicion, "No. You should keep it in case a signal comes through."

"The battery is shot, it was destroyed by An's re-wiring. I have the laptop fully charged if I can ever find somewhere in this place that will allow a signal to get though," she smiled for his sake, but it faded quickly as she realized she was the one stalling now. "It has our message to Evan on it. I want you to take it in case… I want him to hear my voice."

His head shook and jaw clenched as he tightened his grip on the phone, recalling the heartfelt and amusing message they'd recorded for Evan a few days ago on their hike back to the jet, "Catherine, you're not helping your case here, you know that right?"

"I do," she nodded.

"Just… just promise me you won't do anything crazy. Try to stay out of trouble, no painting targets on your back," Steve eyed her, "You know the general layout of this place now, so the best thing to do is get back to the sublevel and find Henry, hang out with those kids. Lay low. Being with them should keep you safe. Okay?"

"Lay low," she nodded, "Understood, Commander."

He took a deep breath, not sure if he believed she'd actually stay put, "I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who'd win the award for most stubborn in this family," Steve pulled her close, arms tightly wrapped around her waist, his forehead pressed against hers, "Damn it, I love you," he whispered.

She smiled and inhaled the salty scent of the ocean that still permeating his skin. Or maybe it was sweat, or maybe just sense memory on her part this time. She drew comfort from it either way, "I love you, too," Catherine pulled out of their embrace reluctantly, her hands pressed against his chest, "I'd kiss you right now but I haven't brushed my teeth in… not even sure how many days. Maybe you should've married a woman who likes to knit."

Steve flashed a lopsided grin, "Or found a woman I hate and bought her a house," he kissed her cheek then looked her in the eye, "I will be right back."

Catherine nodded, "I'm counting on it."

000

Her eyes were closed, but Catherine could tell sunlight was flooding in through the back windows.

It was already Saturday morning and she didn't want to wake up, she didn't want it to be another day closer to them having to go their separate ways again.

She blinked a few times before realizing she was being watched. With her eyes open wider she spotted Steve propped on his left side, cargo pants on but no shirt or shoes. Catherine noticed a strange mixture of happiness and contemplation in his eyes as he faced her. "Have you been awake for a while?" she asked while trying to suppress a yawn. It defied her efforts, though, escaping in a long breath that actually made a sound.

He nodded, smiling at her cute yawn, skimming his hand across some messy bits of hair that stuck out on the left side of her head, "A few minutes."

"And you've been laying here in bed, partially dressed, watching me sleep?" Catherine wondered.

"Yeah."

"For a few minutes?"

"Half hour," he admitted with a slight shrug.

She stretched a little, "Creepy."

"That's not creepy," Steve argued.

"Yes, it is," Catherine pulled the white sheet up across her chest, snuggled in and closed her eyes again.

He frowned, flopping onto his back beside her with an audible sigh, "I was actually going for romantic, not creepy."

"Now I'm really creeped out," she replied through another yawn, "You don't do romantic."

"Sure I do," Steve was easily offended by her claim.

A few song birds took up a chorus outside their cabin. The sunlight receded a little, casting long shadows across the room.

Catherine re-opened her eyes and starred up at the spinning ceiling fan blades. She felt a little bad for obviously having bruised his ego, "I'm sorry, but… not unless pizza and a six pack is your idea of romantic," she dashed his spirits again, noticing the way he pulled on an exaggerated pouty face.

"You like beer and pizza," he prolonged the pout.

"I do," she nodded, rolling onto her side and resting her head against his shoulder. Her left index finger traced invisible figure eights across his chest.

"I cooked you steak on the beach with red wine in real wine glasses," Steve went on. "And how quickly you've forgotten there was a picnic just yesterday."

"True," she gave him that, a smile on her face.

Steve caught her finger and kissed the tip of it, "How about a hike?" he asked.

"Hikes can be romantic," Catherine agreed.

"No, I changed topics," Steve tried to explain. He sat up, drawing her along with him, grinning as the sheet fell to her waist. "I meant the two of us going on a hike today. There's one more place I want to take you," he noticed the hesitancy in her look as she gathered the sheet up around her again. "You'll like it."

"I'm on leave. You are on vacation," she groaned, "Re-lax-a-tion," Catherine enunciated as she lay back down.

He smoothed the back of his hand along her bare shoulder, "I promise you this hike doesn't involve any rock climbing or rappelling," he vowed, "It's only about a mile one way, all grassy path around the lake. And you can even wear a skirt if you like," Steve hoped to sweeten the deal with that offer. He pushed another messy lock of hair behind her left ear, "I'm not chasing anyone, Cath, and no one is chasing me at the moment. So, yes, this is a vacation for me."

"Hmm," she sighed, considering it.

Steve's brow arched, "And you even admitted that yesterday's climb was relaxing."

"I guess I did," she gave a brief nod then reluctantly sat up. Catherine pushed the sheet all the way off her naked body and stood. She faced him and stretched both arms above her head, deliberately. Catherine smiled, pleased with her efforts as she noticed the way he got up and shifted his stance, "Sure you want to go hiking this morning?"

He pointed an accusatory finger at her, "You are an evil temptress. But I am not a weak… man…" Steve trailed off and then gulped as she bent down to grab a bra and panties out of her bag. He vaulted across the bed, snatched her underthings out of her hand and tossed them back atop the bag. His arms snaked about her waist and his lips headed straight to the hollow of her neck where the collar bones met, "Okay… maybe I'm just a tiny bit… weak," he admitted between kisses.

Catherine closed her eyes as his lips brushed against one of her nipples, "And a tiny bit overdressed," she reached for the button fly of his cargo pants.

He stopped a moment to kick off his pants, "We still have the rest of the day for hiking," Steve clutched her waist again, his tongue resuming its previous course.

She reached for the band of his boxer briefs, "Plenty time for hiking later," she lost her hold of him and gasped as he sunk to his knees, his tongue diverting abruptly south.

Three hours later they ended up at the north-eastern corner of the lake. She had to admit the hike was lovely and an extremely easy walk as promised.

Steve held her hand. The last few months dealing with the mysteries of his father's past seemed to disappear as they walked. "There," he lifted her hand along with his, pointing to their right where there was an old ruin of a bungalow type structure. "British design, I think," Steve guided them closer. "Harsha mentioned this place to me, said he and his wife find it to be very romantic. I think their second baby might've even been conceived here," he shrugged.

Catherine grinned.

The ruins were dark stone, probably carved out of the same basaltic rock as the Kanheri caves. They were stacked in neat rows and joined together by a cream colored mortar. It was a large structure, though it had clearly been crumbling for many years. The lush green grass grew all over the area, weaving around the old stone walls. "This feels kind of like a fantasy castle," Catherine was happy she'd gone along with another of his plans, "The sort of place I would daydream about as a little girl."

"I never would've pictured you daydreaming about princess castles," Steve smiled at the thought.

A couple of small white butterflies flittered past them.

"Not the kind of fairytale castle that's pink and frilly," she agreed. "And I was never lounging around wearing ball gowns and eating cupcakes in my fantasies. I guess my dad's nickname was pretty apt, because I would dream about sword fight battles and fire-breathing dragons and being the kind of princess who fought right alongside her prince in an old castle…" Catherine trailed off, "And now I feel very silly mentioning any of that to you."

"Don't feel silly," Steve gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "The girls on the plane the other day, Misha and Dani, they talked about sword fights and dragons, so you're not silly at all. I like listening to you talk about being a little girl," he insisted, "Your dad loved you enough to take you hunting and fishing, and your mom never died on you. She drove you to practices and sleepovers. I call that a happy childhood."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, almost wanting to tell him about losing her baby brother and how terribly her parents had fought. But both were still difficult subjects for her to talk about. She felt like losing a brother she'd barely known and losing a mother during your very impressionable teenaged years the way he had was entirely two different things. Catherine allowed his crappy childhood to trump hers for the moment.

They sat on the grass, backs pressed up against one of the stone walls. The lake was visible past the crumbling ruins.

"Look at that," Steve pointed to the water's edge.

Her eyes followed the line of his finger to where a small group of spotted deer had stopped for a moment to drink from the lake.

"Chital," he said, "Much more common than tiger sightings these days."

Catherine blushed, recalling her ridiculous tiger act the previous night, another matter that he hadn't thought silly. "I just hope the crocodiles aren't hungry," Catherine worried about the beautiful creatures. A moment later, sure enough, the water rippled to life and the deer were startled.

They took off, bounding through the field until they disappeared from sight.

The water's ripple eased, not seeming to have been caused by anything other than the warm breeze.

Her head rested against his shoulder, "This is a romantic spot," Catherine agreed. "And you can be a romantic guy when you want."

"Yeah?" his brow raised, "Because I was thinking we still have a lot of that fifty count condom pack left."

She shook her head and lightly slapped his shoulder. "I take it all back," Catherine chuckled, not surprised he was ready for round two already.

"Oh, okay…" Steve shrugged, "I'm not the one who was strong armed into bringing the whole box."

Catherine laughed again, "Maybe I'll dump the rest of them and tell Amy we humped like bunnies all weekend," she joked.

Steve not-so-covertly reached into his back pocket, "Or…" he presented one of the blue and white plastic wrapped condoms to her, "We could enjoy this romantic setting," he suggested, "Pretend you're the princess and you've brought me back to your castle after a long arduous battle."

"Oh yeah?" she grinned, seeing much more of his goofy, sentimental side emerge; a side that she liked very much, "And what happens once I've got you in my castle?"

He wiggled the condom packet, "I show you how I sheath my sword for protection."

She chuckled softly at his corny come on, placing a hand on either side of his face. Her lips brushed against his, not frenzied like they'd been earlier in the cabin, but softly, sensuously. She took her time with the kiss, eyes closed, savoring the moment, knowing it would slip away much too soon. She'd go back to her ship. He'd return to the island. Catherine sat back, slightly breathless, looking him in the eye, "Thank you for this. All of it," she was grateful for the moments of peace their short vacation had brought.

"You're welcome," he gently kissed her cheek.

000

Catherine kept her head low to avoid the spinning helicopter blades as Steve started up the aircraft.

She dashed across the deck, found the door latch and pulled it. Her left hand remained hovering on the latch as two massive doors began to roll open in opposite directions. "That seems about right," Catherine nearly laughed to realize it was the only door in the whole complex so far without some sort of lock.

Night air rushed in, swirled by the helicopter's churning blades. It was still warm and sticky, but the gentle breeze was refreshing. Catherine could see the sky now, free of any tree canopy, an inky dark blue pinpricked with stars. Their entire time inside the complex had seemed like an eternity, but in reality only a few hours had passed. It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness beyond the hangar, but when they did she could see they were perched alongside a deep ravine just as they'd guessed.

Catherine had been expecting a couple hundred feet of drop; instead she was faced with easily three times that. And she couldn't even spot the ground.

Her gaze returned to the hangar, the doors fully open now and yet Steve hadn't moved. "What are you doing?" Catherine whispered, her heart beating wildly. Finally she waved a hand at him, "Get out of here!" she shouted over the hum of the helicopter and the roar of a waterfall that she could hear again but not see. Their eyes locked from across the hangar bay. She saw the hesitation that remained in his worried gaze, "I'll be fine," she whispered, "I promise."

As if he'd heard her, she watched the helicopter rise and hover a moment before Steve expertly guided the craft past the hangar doors.

She stood there until the helicopter vanished into the night.

Catherine was surprised he'd actually gone without her. Part of her wished he would've just dragged her along, protests be damned. A bigger part of her was glad to know how much he trusted her. His faith in her was what caused her to jog across the hangar and face the unknown. She made her way back to the door she'd shown Steve earlier. The hallway was long and dark. No lights flicked on automatically and she couldn't spot or feel a switch.

The hallway dead ended into an equally dark stairway with only one direction to travel. Up.

She considered using her headlight but decided against it in case she needed to stay hidden.

At the top, Catherine found another door and was able to push it open easily - a second unlocked door in the place. She stepped into a small room with no lights.

Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could make out an array of massive pipes and ductwork running along the floor and ceiling.

The familiar whoosh-hiss of a sliding door opening to her left caused Catherine to swiftly retreat to her right.

A stream of light divided the space and she pressed her back against a wall, fading into the darkness.

"There's a back stairway down from here," a voice said, "I think it should lead us to the hangar."

Catherine thought it sounded a lot like that Emerson kid she'd seen earlier, but she couldn't see his face. She remained hidden, practically holding her breath as she watched several shadowy figures crowd into the room. The stairway door opened and a troop of boots clanged noisily down the metal treads. A few moments later silence filled the room again and she moved cautiously to her right, hoping to reach the door without detection.

Before she could get there a hand clamped over her mouth from behind.

She promptly elbowed the hand's owner in the stomach and stomped their foot.

"It's just me," An whispered.

Catherine turned to face the woman. An put a hand up, a sign not to say anything else that might carry down the stairwell. They approached the sliding door and a motion sensor opened it. Each of them poised guns at their sides as they left the dark space and stepped into a larger mechanical room that was brightly lit, "We're just across the hall from the hangar door," An explained, voice still hushed, "I had to find a quick place to hide."

"We have to go back to the stairwell we first came up," Catherine realized, thinking the place was an intentional rat maze. There were no elevators that they'd been able to find, just a complicated system of stairs and corridors that had them backtracking at every dead end.

An nodded as they opened the door and checked the corridor, found it empty and stepped into the hall, "Vichy won't stay in the hangar for long once he figures out we're gone," An glanced to Catherine as they slowed a little to round a corner, "Steve got my parents away, didn't he?"

"Yes," Catherine answered. They took the turn after making sure no one was around, "You don't seem surprised to see me."

"I didn't think you could leave these boys," An replied.

"Why'd you stay behind?" Catherine wondered. As they moved quickly down the corridor it was clear An wasn't going to respond. Catherine noticed her companion's pack looked a lot bulkier so she asked an easier question, "What's in your bag?"

"Found a few useful things in that mechanical storage room," An replied but didn't bother to elaborate. "We're going back to hide out with the kids, right?" she guessed, "Vichy wouldn't let anything bad happen to his little army men, would he?"

"I hope not," Catherine didn't really like hearing them called army men even though it seemed rather accurate given what they knew.

The two of them moved silently through the complex after that - down the stairs, through the main level corridor maze and then down more stairs.

Backtracking was easier than flying blind and they reached the large sublevel lounge room ten minutes later.

The area was empty and the lights seemed to have been dimmed since their first visit.

Glancing at her watch, Catherine noticed it was just after midnight local time.

A few minutes of exploration led them to a small living room area that was in a very dark corner, walls on two sides; one solid wall and one window wall that bordered the atrium. It seemed fortified enough and Catherine noticed a power outlet that was being used by a floor lamp. They sat on the carpeted floor using the sofas to hide them. Catherine pressed her back against a brown leather sofa, unplugged the lamp and plugged in her laptop, hoping she might get through to Chin.

Her computer booted quickly but she still couldn't get a signal from her satellite, and no apparent wireless inside the building. That didn't stop her from trying, over and over. "What's your history with Vichy?" she finally asked An, more than a little curious as she fiddled with her laptop, "You worked with him?"

An sat with her back against the window wall. She faced the open area to keep an eye out, gun in hand resting against her thigh, "I don't really know him. I know his voice."

"You whispered something about him tying ropes?" Catherine recalled, "And he was calling out your name. He seems to think he knows you."

The woman didn't respond.

Even though she knew Steve would deny it, Catherine saw a slight resemblance between him and An. They both had a tendency to clam up and not talk about personal matters. "You can either tell me about Vichy," Catherine offered, "Or tell me the reason why you wanted to know your…" she stopped herself from saying brother, "Wo Fat."

"Is there a third option?" An wondered.

Catherine shook her head as she typed an encrypted email that probably wouldn't go through. She wasn't going to force the woman to talk.

"Wo Fat came to me," An pointed out. "I didn't go looking for him. I didn't know he existed."

"I already know that," Catherine replied, "Doris gave him what little information she had on you, but you said you wanted to know that side of your family…" she heard An growl at the mention of them being called family, "That part of your genetic background?" she offered.

An sighed, "I grew up with parents who dragged me all over the globe. They loved me very much and that should've been enough, but they were dedicated to science and linguistics, to helping others learn and build communities. Living so many different places meant not making friends easily, you know this part," she seemed annoyed to repeat it, "There were times when I felt I couldn't relate to my parents, or to anyone. During those times I daydreamed about… about having a sibling."

Catherine recalled having similar daydreams.

"It was usually a younger sister," An confessed, a little more relaxed, "She and I would tell each other everything, laugh together, hang out together, be there for each other."

"So when Wo Fat showed up you jumped at the chance to know your sibling," Catherine couldn't fault her for that. She probably would've done the same.

"I made a mistake," An grew tense again, clearly wanting to forget about it.

"No, you made a choice… an emotional choice," Catherine understood.

For a long time after that the only sound was the soft click-clack of Catherine's keyboard. A half hour passed quickly.

There was still no signal to send her message and Catherine closed her eyes for a moment, "We thought Vichy was helping us," she recalled; eyes open again and refocused, "But now it's pretty clear Lawson planted him. When I spoke with you before this trip you mentioned Vichy working for Lawson. I figured you were grasping for anyone else to lay blame on."

"Didn't realize he was a threat," An admitted, "I figured since he was CIA Lawson was using him like he used me, another bit of ammo in his arsenal, but…" she shrugged, "I was always blindfolded," her voice softened, "They'd let me into that office for a break in between, but Lawson would blindfold me and Vichy would string me up, hang me upside down so the blood would rush to my head. That made me vulnerable, more susceptible to their torture methods. Sometimes I'd even pass out."

Catherine dug her nails into her palms, keenly aware that one finger wasn't there, "You don't have to elaborate."

"I've never talked about it," An continued. "Vichy usually stank like whisky and sour body odor. I couldn't ever see him, nor did I know his name. They were good about not using names. But I could smell him and hear him. His hot breath would travel down my neck as he leaned into me, asking if the ropes were tight enough, delight in his tone. Lawson or Wo Fat did the other stuff, the cutting and the relentless brainwashing techniques - drugs, mind games. I tried to pretend it was only Lawson."

"Rather than think your brother could do those things to you," Catherine assumed.

"It was both of them," An knew. "Doesn't matter anymore," she tried to shrug off the subject. "I didn't put it together that Vichy was the one helping them until I heard him say my name earlier in that corridor upstairs. I honestly didn't think he was this far into it," An pursed her lips, glancing up to check their surroundings again, "They broke me, the three of them. I was too weak, too vulnerable…" she knew the deeper truth, "Too eager to please."

"Maybe for a little while," Catherine said, trying to move her laptop closer to the window in an attempt to gain a signal. She sat beside An, "But you changed."

"Anything I may have turned around, I owe to Billy," An whispered. "He was my assignment, but he…" she shifted away from the emotional again, hardening her voice, "It was laughable to think Lawson and Wo Fat wanted me to seduce Billy," An shook her head. "They didn't know what a hermit I was, what a failure at romance I've always been. I don't make friends easily. I've always been nerdy and awkward. Pam was one of very few I came to call a friend; a sister."

Silence hung between them for a moment. Catherine wasn't going to push her any further.

"I went to that trade show Billy attended," An offer, "Helped him pick out equipment he was planning to buy for your security business. When he spoke to me then, he…"

Catherine smiled sadly, recalling the affable Navy officer she'd met at Bagram airfield, "He was easy to talk to, easy to be around."

An nodded, "Do you know what it's like to be absolutely afraid of loving someone, worried it will be your undoing?"

"Kind of," Catherine grinned, "I tried hard not to fall in love with Steve," she recalled, "We had a good thing going for a long time, a couple of friends just having fun. It grew from there, but I wasn't looking for it when he came into my life. My parent's crappy marriage and my brother's death made me think I never wanted a husband or a baby. Now I can't imagine not having Steve or Evan. I tried to pretend I didn't want more, but I was fooling myself."

"I would've been a horrible wife," An declared, "But I did love Billy."

"You would've figured it out," Catherine spoke from experience, "I'm sorry you never got the chance."

"No, don't do that," An's head shook as she gripped the gun tighter, "I killed Billy. I didn't deserve the chance."

Hearing her say those words never got easier, but somehow Catherine had already forgiven the woman, "You were ordered to kill Steve, blackmailed with the lives of your parents at stake," Catherine pointed out. "Billy took that bullet for an old friend. Your choice was unbearable and you have to live with it now. Billy's choice was a no-brainer for him. I think under different circumstances you and Billy could've been good for each other. He was caring and relaxed… he would've balanced you out."

"I never really allowed myself to relax with Billy," An admitted, "It all happened so fast, he proposed and gave me his mother's ring, took me to this romantic spot near Amsterdam; the Keukenhof Gardens. I tried to be myself but I was living a lie. I'd already been coerced by Wo Fat and Lawson. And after they took my parents I was just trying to survive."

Catherine nodded, "Sometimes surviving is all you can do," she agreed.

"Billy and my parents deserved better than me," An concluded as she looked up again to scan the room.

"Your parents are alive and they love you," Catherine was quick to assure.

"Loved," An stressed the past tense, "I've given my parents heartache and nearly a year of being locked away. It took me all this time to realize they were my real family. How do I ever come back from that?" she wondered, "Sure, I go to jail for my crimes. But how can I possibly apologize for what I've done to my parents, to Billy, you… to all these boys?"

"First off, you didn't know about these boys," Catherine pointed out, "And in my experience you never know how you're going to touch lives, affect them for better or worse," she tried to reason, "If we make a mistake all we can do is say we're sorry and go from there. It's up to the other person to decide if we deserve forgiveness. You've taken the first step in your apology, which counts for a lot in my book. Your mother was concerned about you and I heard your father call you niu. It means little girl, a pet-name?"

An nodded.

"They love you," Catherine declared, though talk of pet-names brought up thoughts of Lawson calling her child again. "It won't be easy," that was the one thing she could assure the woman, remembering Steve giving her a very similar pep talk several weeks ago, "Nothing worth a damn is ever easy, but it is worth fighting for."

Several more minutes passed before An spoke again, refocused on the present. "We should have a plan in case we get caught down here."

"What do you have in mind?" Catherine asked, "Got any bomb making materials in there?" she eyed the woman's bag again.

"Chemicals are always volatile," An replied, "But I think that should be a last resort given all the children here." She watched Catherine nod. "I'd guess Vichy is okay in a fight, as long as he has the upper hand. But he's number three behind Lawson and Wo Fat probably only because of his CIA torture expertise, and the fact he could get the CIA to look the other way. If we put our heads up against his we might stand a chance against him."

"Meaning…" Catherine only needed a second to think about it. "You want us to trick Vichy into thinking we're working with Lawson," she realized, "Maybe you can toggle back and forth like that, but I can't do it again… not even pretending," she made her position clear.

"I know you won't just leave these boys behind, not even if it might mean seeing your son sooner," An stated with confidence, "We just have to get him to drop his guard long enough for the real CIA, or whoever Steve contacts, to get here," she stated her case.

Doubt tied Catherine's stomach in knots again. "I don't know if I can fool Vichy."

"You can," An assured her, "You're the strongest person I know."

"Everyone keeps saying how strong I am, and…" Catherine resumed typing, still searching for a way to send a message, "Lawson has put me up on some sort of strange pedestal, talked to these boys about me, but…" her head shook, "If it was up to me I'd be curled up in the corner of a padded room right now, crying myself silly."

An scoffed, "I don't see it."

"Okay, fine," Catherine buried her doubts, "I'll follow your lead if it comes to that, but I promised Steve we'd try to lay low until he got back."

"Laying low isn't going to work for long," An suspected, "We also need to decide who to trust around here, if anyone."

Nothing was working for Catherine and she sat back, "Obviously some of these boys have already proven their loyalty to Vichy."

"Not so sure it's loyalty," An countered. "The only reason I can imagine these kids dealing with Vichy would be out of fear for their lives."

"Regardless of their reasons, Dante died rather than talk to me," Catherine pointed out, "Henry and Khalil weren't afraid to talk to me because of what Lawson's told them. But they were both very chatty when it came to secure information," she noted, "What if they were planted by Vichy, meant to tell us what they wanted us to know?"

"I doubt it since he hasn't found us," An responded, "We were already inside; they figured we had proper clearances. They thought we were here for training exercises, which must happen at regular enough intervals that they weren't surprised by our presence. Plus they're both younger than Dante or the other boys sent on that mission, less experienced."

Catherine sighed, "Those boys at the crash site seemed very young to me."

"Henry is a sweet boy," An said, hoping to push her along, "I'm a poor judge of character but even I could tell that. The way he tried to deal with that cranky baby, I don't have anything near that level of patients. And that Khalil kid was trying to be tough and in command around those two other boys, but he doesn't have the edge. Maybe he'll learn it, but he's not there yet. Compared to those soldiers sent to the jet, Henry and Khalil are lightweights," she concluded.

"Emerson and the others who met us at the gate were all locked down pretty tight," Catherine remembered, "But they never seemed to question us being here either, or never showed it," she realized. "They knew you and where your office was. They seemed to think Steve and I were your prisoners. That tracks with them helping Vichy."

"Or maybe they thought my bringing you in as prisoners was also part of a training exercise," An suggested. "They didn't stick around to guard us," she pointed out. "Lawson obviously leaves them here on their own for fairly long stretches of time. They seem mostly self-sufficient and have extensive weapon's training. They can certainly defend themselves and they follow orders, but they can't possibly know everything about Lawson or what his business really is," she guessed.

Catherine believed that was very likely. "Henry said many of them call Lawson father," she remembered, "But that Emerson kid called Lawson master, not father." It seemed a pretty significant fact to her, but her thoughts wouldn't let go of something else, "I'm not so sure it matters which of these boys is on Vichy's side or not. This is their home. If any of them see us as a threat they're bound to put up a fight," she'd already told Steve the same, "What if we can't…"

"Shut up," An whispered.

With a furrowed brow and slightly annoyed look, Catherine watched An put a finger to her lips. The sound of footsteps nearby finally caused her to react. She quickly closed her laptop to extinguish its soft glow, shoved the computer into her pack and slid it beneath the coffee table. Catherine got down on her stomach, a position An had already taken beside her. She made sure the CB was off. They held their weapons at the ready and quieted their breathing as much as possible while they listened.

"I don't think this is a good idea," a boy spoke from somewhere to their left, "Emerson told us to stay in our rooms," he mentioned, "You were even pulled off duty."

"Emerson is just upset because he thought they were here for a training exercise, like the rest of us did," a second boy replied, "I talked to her, I know she's the one father always tells us about. Emerson has to be wrong. We need to find her, and you told me they'd been down here earlier."

She'd only spoken with each boy once, but Catherine recognized their voices. Her head lifted just enough to peek around the sofa and spot them standing six feet away. There didn't appear to be anyone else with them. She started to stand and An reached for her arm in an attempt to stop her, but Catherine fished her pack out and stood. "Henry?" she whispered the boy's name, knowing she was talking a huge risk. The pack was slung across her back as she took a step forward.

An jumped to her feet and followed, gun clenched in her hand.

The boys turned and spotted them. "Catherine, we…" Henry was clearly nervous, "We were looking for you, but…" he shared a worried glance with Khalil.

"We should tell someone you're down here," Khalil finished his friend's thought.

"It's okay if you do," she offered, knowing they were trying to fight an entire lifetime of doing what they were told, "We'll hide somewhere else. I don't want to get you into trouble."

"You already have," Khalil said, "Just by being here."

Henry sighed, "We told a few of our brothers about you being here. Emerson said you'd betrayed father, turned against him and put him in jail. And he told us Mr. Vichy was upset because he couldn't find you. He needs to talk to you about father being in jail. Is it true that father is in jail?"

"Yes, it is," Catherine was honest with them. "But you don't understand…"

"I thought you were a friend," Henry looked like she'd slapped him in the face, "I never should've told you about the cells, never should've let you hold Jomi."

She could tell both boys had come to her for answers, but it wasn't going to be easy giving them, "Henry, I'd very much like to be a friend to you, but things are complicated. I need to tell you something that'll be difficult to hear and you may not believe me," Catherine looked each boy in the eye. "Lawson is not a good person. I think he was once, but he's… he didn't rescue you, Henry. He's abducted all of you, he holds you prisoner here."

"This is our home," Khalil protested, fingers brushing against the weapon at his side.

"Are you allowed to leave?" An asked them.

"Why would we want to?" Henry shrugged. "This is our home," the boy reiterated, "Father will return soon. He takes care of us."

Catherine sighed, but she wasn't about to give up, "No, Henry, you take care of yourselves," she reminded him. "Lawson won't be back. He's going to stay in jail for the rest of his life for what he's done to you and to all of the…" she couldn't get into the complicated matter of all the women he'd abducted and sold into slavery, two of which were mothers to the children she was looking in the eye right now. She shifted gears a little, "Lawson took me away from my home."

"Why would he do that?" Khalil asked.

She shrugged, "I'm still not sure, but he… he made everyone I love think I was dead." Catherine took a deep breath and held her left hand out for them to see. "He cut off my finger to give them proof of my death and then he held me captive for nearly a year," She looked to Khalil, "You know the ship you spoke of?" Catherine watched the boy nod, "That's where he held me," she turned to Henry, "My son, who I told you about, he was born on that ship. And my son's father, the man I was with earlier, he had no idea we were alive."

"He didn't even know he had a son for months," An added to Catherine's hard push, hoping they'd understand the truth.

"This place is a prison, Henry," Catherine insisted, "Khalil…" she looked to both of them, seeing Evan again, "We could take you away from here and you could have a family; parents."

"I have brothers," Henry said.

"So do I," Khalil agreed, "We have a family here."

She nodded, a heavy sigh escaping, "I told you this would be hard to hear. And you have no reason to believe me over Lawson or Vichy."

"Not all of us like Vichy," Khalil was quick to state.

An shared a glance with Catherine. They both knew they had a small window of opportunity with that confession.

"Vichy is the only one here right now and he sees me as a threat," Catherine let them know. "If you don't like him then maybe you should fight him."

"How?" Henry asked.

"Help me," Catherine gave the simplest reply possible.

"We would have to fight our brothers, we can't," Khalil shook his head, "Emerson said that Vichy thinks the only way to get father back is to kill you."

"And what would your father think if I was killed?" she asked.

The boys exchanged a quick look, "We can't choose you over him," Henry finally said.

"But we can't kill you," Khalil added, "You have to leave."

"I only told Khalil about you being down here," Henry explained. "Nobody else knows you have access to this space. They're searching the upper levels right now, but eventually they'll come down here. We can get around the guards searching for you, escort you out of here."

"I'm not leaving yet," Catherine insisted, "Can you hide us somewhere for a while?"

Henry looked to his friend again and they both reluctantly nodded.

"This way," Khalil directed as he and Henry set off in front of them. They maneuvered through the living spaces and bypassed the hallway to their quarters. Catherine and An followed them through a door into a long hallway that was brightly lit. They passed several sets of double doors on their right, which Catherine could see led into a gymnasium. There were single doors all along their left and Khalil opened one at random. "These study rooms don't lock," he said, "They won't think you'll try to hide here."

"Or they won't search this area for quite a while," Henry was more realistic.

There were no automatic lights, but Khalil turned on a table lamp. The study room was twelve by twelve with bookshelves to each side of the door. Dozens of reference books lined the shelves. One wooden desk faced the door and another faced the wall to their left. That was it other than a lamp atop each desk. Catherine took a seat at the desk facing the wall and pulled her laptop out. She glanced around the room again, "Is there any sort of wireless in this building?"

"You mean internet?" Henry asked, watching her nod, "No."

"You don't use computers?" An found that hard to believe, "Or you just don't have internet connection?

"We have laptops and tablets in our classrooms," Henry informed them, "But they only have simulated internet. We learn all the latest technology, hardware and software, we're just not allowed to surf the internet. Father says there's nothing but junk on it," the boy relayed. He noticed An staring at him, "We're allowed to watch approved movies and we have seen women before, some of our teachers are women," he defended, "We're not stupid."

"Never thought you were, sorry if it came across like that," An apologized.

Catherine knew internet access had been a long shot. She abandoned the laptop in favor of fiddling with the handheld CB, trying to see if Steve was on any of the channels.

The crackle of the radio was the only sound in the dark room for a while. Both boys remained standing, hovering close to the door. An stood as well, arms crossed over her chest as she kept her gaze leveled on the two teenagers. She kept watch over Henry in particular. "You're conflicted," An recognized the look in his eyes.

"I've never had to make a choice about anything other than deciding between caregiver or guard training," Henry revealed. "I don't know what's right, who to trust."

"It's not easy trying to figure out what the right thing is," An agreed. "I put my trust in Lawson and Wo Fat and it cost me my life," she let him know.

Khalil's brow furrowed, "You're alive."

"I killed a man, one of Catherine's best friends," An spoke openly with the boys, "I almost lost my parents for good. I lost my way, but I finally figured out that Catherine…" a finger was pointed toward the woman in question, "She's the epitome of doing the right thing. She's telling you the truth. She's here now risking her life for your wellbeing when she'd rather be home with her son. She cares too much. She barely knows you two, but she cares about you. She even cares about me after all I've done."

Catherine looked up, having overheard everything An said, "I care about people who deserve to be cared about."

An kept her focus on Henry and Khalil, "You don't have to believe a word I say, but believe her. Trust her."

The room grew quiet again for several minutes until an alarm began to blare.

Khalil rushed toward the door and looked out the narrow window in the partition.

"What is that?" Catherine asked.

"Standard drill," Henry answered, joining his friend at the door.

"A drill in the middle of the night?" Catherine questioned. "Won't it wake the children? Jomi?"

"Jomi is with my brother's, Leonard and Miguel," Henry said, "He's fine."

The two women knew there was something they weren't saying about the alarm.

Catherine stowed her laptop and the radio in her pack, making sure each was turned off. "They're searching this sublevel, aren't they?" she asked. The boys nodded. Khalil turned the lamp off and ushered them to stand clear of the door. Catherine moved to the left with Henry. Khalil and An were huddled on the right side.

Even over the alarm they could hear footsteps and muffled voices out in the hall, then an echo of opening and closing doors.

Their room's door opened and the light was switched on.

Catherine could see a tall boy's profile as he stepped a foot inside. "Good, you're here," An spoke loudly, brandishing her gun as she stepped toward Catherine and Henry. "I just found her in here trying to convince these boys to turn against us," she declared. "I got one boy away from her, but she still has that one."

Following along, Catherine gently gripped Henry's wrist. She prayed An knew what she was doing.

Emerson fully entered the room and leveled his crossbow, aiming it upon An. "Us?" he questioned her, "Vichy said not to trust you."

"I guess he's smarter than he sounds," An replied before turning her weapon on Emerson and firing.

"No!" Catherine let go of Henry. She rushed toward Emerson and pushed him aside enough for both of them to avoid being hit. Catherine stood between him and An. "No one else is getting hurt," she insisted, lowering her gun and handing it over to Emerson. Catherine looked An in the eye, willing her to stand down.

The blonde boy grinned, "You should've let her shoot me," Emerson declared before he used the butt of her gun to bash Catherine over the back of her head.

Catherine dropped to her knees, trying to fight the pain that radiated throughout her skull. She fell forward but managed to remain conscious.

An rushed to Catherine's side and Emerson used the opportunity to knock the gun out of her hand.

"Are you…" Catherine groaned, closing her eyes a moment and reaching up to touch the back of her head. Her fingers came back bloody and An helped her stand, guiding her over to the desk chair she'd sat in earlier. Catherine glanced across the room at Emerson. She'd battled through worse pain to fight, but she couldn't fight any more of the boys in Lawson's compound. "Are you going to follow Vichy's orders and kill me?" Catherine finally asked.

His head shook, "Vichy wants that honor, but he won't kill you until Lawson is released from jail and rejoins us. He believes Lawson has lost his edge because of you," Emerson explained, "Vichy knows you're his weakness so he wants to kill you in front of Lawson. That way the connection can be severed for good." The young man turned in time to see An creeping toward her gun on the floor. Emerson jabbed her in the ribs with his crossbow, "Grab that," he instructed Henry.

Henry picked up the weapon and held it at his side. "Let us take them to Vichy," he appealed to the boy in charge.

Khalil stood beside Henry, "He's right, we'll do it. They… they captured us and we should be able to…"

"No," Emerson snapped. He pulled a loop of rope off a clip on his belt, "You'll guard them here." The rope was tossed to Khalil. Emerson faced Catherine, "These boys are not your friends. Lawson told them fairy tales about you. There are always a few who want to believe in fairy tales," he shook his head, "But loyalty to one's family is much more powerful than a fairy tale," he concluded looking to Khalil and Henry again, "Vichy is busy with an important project right now and I need to help him."

"We can take them to a cell," Khalil suggested.

The older boy shook his head at that suggestion, "I won't risk moving them with so many…" Emerson scowled at the boys, "Just keep an eye on them. I'll post a few guards outside this door for you. Don't do anything until I get back," Emerson seemed confident they'd do as he said. He slipped out of the room.

No one spoke for several minutes, waiting to make sure Emerson was gone. Khalil didn't tie anyone up.

Henry finally rushed across the room and knelt in front of Catherine, "Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded, but it hurt to do so, "I'm fine. You and Khalil should get out of here."

"We won't make it past Emerson's guards out there," Henry sighed.

An walked to the door and looked out. "Only three boys…" she removed her pack and sat it on the floor, "I can get us past them."

"You two should return to your rooms, we'll hide somewhere else," Catherine spoke again, "Is it safer to hide on an upper level?" she asked Henry.

His head shook, "You can't go back upstairs. During this sort of drill the door up there is locked."

An unzipped her bag and removed a water bottle. "We're done hiding out," she glanced over at Catherine, "I'm getting you away from this place, we can't wait any longer."

Catherine watched An dump half the water onto the tile floor. Then she pulled out a container with some sort of chemical name scrawled across a red label. She filled the bottle the rest of the way with a green liquid that immediately started to fizz in reaction with the water. An covered her mouth and nose with the crook of her elbow and motioned for Catherine and the boys to do the same. She opened the door and lobbed the cocktail into the corridor where the guards were.

The door was closed quickly and An counted down aloud, "Ten, nine, eight…" by the time she reached zero she'd reopened the door and spotted all three boys laying on the floor.

Henry helped Catherine with her bag. Khalil tossed the rope onto a desk and joined them all at the door.

They all coughed a little as residual smoke lingered in the doorway. Catherine followed An and the boys out of the room. She glanced at the kids who were sprawled on the floor, clearly down for the count. "Will they be okay?" Catherine asked once they were in the hall.

An nodded, "Not too toxic, mostly makes you sleepy," she said, rubbing her eyes as they checked the area.

Khalil directed them to the left, "There's only one exit down here," he and Henry lead them into the gymnasium and then through a locker room.

The alarm kept up a steady rhythm, echoing through all the hallways and rooms.

A door off the locker room led them into a tight, dark stairwell. They climbed several floors worth of steps and passed through one last door before finally emerging outside.

Catherine's head had stopped pounding for the moment and she could hear the waterfall again, even felt a bit of spray.

"There's only a small ledge behind you," Khalil motioned over their shoulders. A stone wall behind them arched overhead and connected to the building so there was no way to climb over it. A steep drop off greeted them to the right. "Emerson said your friend took the R22," he recalled, "It won't be able to reach you here," Khalil pointed to the right. "There's a bridge around the corner, just this side of the waterfall. Once you cross over there's a training ground, a field. He can land there."

"Come with us," Catherine offered even though she knew the helicopter Steve was piloting had very little room for any of them.

"I can't leave Jomi, he's just a baby," Henry protested, "He needs me."

"Go get him, we'll wait," Catherine offered. Even in the darkness she could see An shaking her head. "We'll wait," she insisted.

Henry's head shook as well, "There's not enough time. Go now while you have the chance." He returned her gun.

Khalil nodded in agreement, "We'll be punished for helping you, but they won't hurt us." He offered An his weapon.

An tucked the gun into her back waistband.

Catherine's heart ached, "Listen to me, both of you… the CIA… they'll come here and they won't be able to help you if you fight them. Please, I don't want anything to happen to you."

The boy's shared a quick glance, "The alarm isn't a drill," Henry confessed.

She sighed knowingly, "Evacuation?"

"We'll be gone before they get here," Khalil confirmed. "They won't find us, neither will you."

"Henry… Khalil…" Catherine could feel An actually pulling at her. There was a time Catherine never could've imagined having maternal instincts or a child of her own. At the moment she fought every maternal instinct in her body in order to walk away without forcing Henry and Khalil to go with them. She also fought the motherly urge to hug them. "You're wrong, I will not stop looking until I find you again," Catherine vowed, "Until then… take care of your selves."

"We always do," they said at the same time, flashing brief smiles before they closed the door.

Catherine remained starring at the door for a moment. She knew Henry and Khalil's images would remain burned into her mind's eye for a long time.

An was already at work, her pack off the shoulders again. This time she completely emptied another plastic water bottle and began to mix a few chemicals, "I'm not sure if this will be strong enough," she shook the bottle vigorously for several minutes to mix it. An pulled a small towel out of her bag that she'd taken from her parent's prison bathroom. She began to plaster the door's perimeter with a goopy blue paste, spreading with the towel. "If it does work I don't know how long it'll last," she added, "They'll probably get through eventually."

The goop was already hardening and created a web across the frame. Catherine was impressed, "I'll be happy if it buys us even a few seconds," she fished the CB radio out of her pack and turned it on again. Several stations were tried and the radio crackled with static each time until she switched to one with an actual voice.

"This is Everest, calling for Mumbai… if you can hear me, please respond…"

"Steve," she whispered. Catherine pressed down the black button on the side, holding it closer to her mouth so he could hear her over the rumble of the waterfall, "Everest, this is Mumbai…" Catherine glanced over An's shoulder and was thankful no one else knew what those code names really meant to them, "I can hear you," she let him know, "Seems we've overstayed our welcome here, any chance you're nearby for a pick up?"

"Did you make it back to the jeep?"

"No," her head shook reflexively and she winced in pain. Catherine knew there was no time for long explanations, "We had some help and got out through a back passage."

Static responded for a moment and she feared they'd lost their connection.

"Stay put and I'll come get you. I'm still five-ten minutes out. Are you somewhere accessible?"

Her heart settled back into her chest as she heard his voice again, "We will be by the time you get here - a field to our east, across the ravine. There's a bridge."

"I know where you are; saw it on my way out. Mumbai... be careful… you owe me a honeymoon. I'll see you soon."

She smiled, "See you soon." Catherine ended the connection then stuffed the radio and gun into her pack.

"That's it," An announced, "That's the best I can do with my limited supplies."

They each shouldered their packs and moved to the right, turned the corner and edged along the tiny bit of rock ledge beside the waterfall. The waterfall had practically drenched them by the time they spotted the bridge. The bridge was extremely primitive; narrow, constructed of six inch by twelve inch rickety wood planks. There was at least two feet of gap between each plank, and no barrier along either side except for a single, thick-braided, rope handhold that connected to the footbridge at sparse intervals.

The good thing was it was so dark they could barely see more than a couple hundred feet below them.

The bad part was they also couldn't see the other side of the ravine or most of the bridge in between.

"Pretty sure this isn't a bridge," An commented, "It looks more like a tightrope."

"Not afraid of heights, are you?" Catherine closed her eyes for a moment, her head throbbing again.

"No, just afraid of falling," An confessed. "Where's your headlight?"

Catherine kept her eyes shut, feeling dizzy all of a sudden, "In my side pocket."

An easily found the item, "You probably have a concussion."

"Yeah, already figured that out," Catherine quipped. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Sorry, I'm just… mad at myself for nearly getting us killed."

"You should wear this around your neck," An instructed, "That way it won't hurt your head but we'll still be able to see where we're going."

The headlight's elastic band easily stretched enough so it didn't hit the lump Catherine felt forming on the back of her head. She positioned in around her neck and flipped it on. The bright LED light was greatly appreciated as they gingerly took the first few steps across. Catherine walked closely behind An, lighting the way, "Steve is gonna be pissed," she said as they moved slowly, "I should've left with him, but no… no, I had to stay behind to rescue teenagers who didn't want to be rescued."

"He'll just be glad you're alive," An guessed, "And because you stayed behind you were able to talk to those boys. You had a chance to tell them the truth. They'll have to figure out what to do with it, but you've given them something to think about. Maybe they'll be the thing to turn the tide."

The roar of the waterfall faded as they moved further away from it, "Is that optimism I just heard?" Catherine wondered, but An didn't respond to her teasing tone. Without the sound of the waterfall Catherine could hear the groan and creak of the boards they were walking across. She'd rather hear the water again, but settled for the sound of her own voice. "Sorry you didn't get to confront Vichy," she tried again, "That's why you stayed behind, isn't it?"

"Aren't you supposed to tell me that taking revenge won't make me happy?" An asked.

Catherine grinned, "You just said it for me." She concentrated on each step, one foot in front of the other. Seemed easy enough, but the wide and random gaps between boards made it hard to judge distance. "I understand that sort of motivation," Catherine commiserated, "I wanted Lawson dead that day you delivered him to us at HQ. I probably would've shot him without Steve's help. He knew I'd regret it eventually. Doing the right thing usually means making the tougher choice."

"You can say that again."

"Doing the right thing usually means…"

"Are you okay?" An turned her head, worried.

"I'm fine," Catherine replied, "I was trying to make a joke."

A very small sound escaped An's lips as she faced forward again.

"Did you just laugh?" Catherine wondered if she was hearing things on top of the throbbing in her head.

"Maybe," a sigh replaced the small bit of laughter An had momentarily let go. "Isn't that some sort of sign of delirium or… I don't know, don't people laugh at inappropriate times when they're stuck in a stressful situation and…" she stopped mid-sentence, sensing something was wrong. An noticed that there was no light at her feet. "Catherine?" She gripped the rope handhold to her right and managed to turn around. An spotted Catherine leaning to her left side.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Catherine groaned, clutching the ropes as tightly as possible.

The bridge bounced a little more than usual as An walked toward her. "You picked a great time."

"No floor to clean," Catherine tried to find an upside as she puked up mostly water. "Ugh," she groaned.

As they held their position the air above them began to beat quietly. The sound grew steadily until it was unmistakably the thut-thut-thut of a helicopter.

"Steve," Catherine whispered. She could just make out the small silhouette, and narrow headlight beam, of a helicopter in the distance.

"Come on," An encouraged, "I didn't promise him I'd get you out alive, but it might win me some points in his favor."

The shadowy helicopter diverted east toward their rendezvous point.

Catherine relaxed a little and finally took another step forward, but she miscalculated.

Her right foot caught nothing but air. Her balance was thrown off and she flopped forward. Her hands slipped from the rope holds.

An intentionally let go of the side ropes and reached out for Catherine. She deftly pushed her backward toward safety.

Catherine was able to settle both her feet against a wooden plank and grasp the rope again.

An wasn't as lucky.

Catherine's headlight beam dipped and weaved erratically with the shaky bridge as she watched An slip through the dead space between planks. An desperately clawed at the board in front of her, fingernails scraping across the wood, trying to dig in. Catherine dropped to her knees, completely unsteady again as she let go of the rope holds. She flattened herself onto her belly and extended her legs out behind her, somehow managing to wedge one foot beneath a board as her other leg looped around a section of rope.

She reached out and caught An around the left wrist. An's weight and gravity's pull caused Catherine to pitch forward.

The upper half of her torso dangled off the bridge, but her legs held tight.

An knew there was nothing between her and a thousand foot drop. She didn't look down. She looked up at Catherine, the headlight illuminating a small bit of air between them.

Catherine couldn't reach the radio in her pack. She could barely take a breath without risk of losing her hold on An.

"All the evidence you need against Lawson is in a safety deposit box that I buried in his backyard on Kaweloka Street in Pearl City," An relayed in a frantic rush of words.

"That's great, we'll go dig it up together when we get back to Oahu," Catherine replied.

An looked her in the eye, "The engagement ring Billy gave me is also in there. It was his mother's. You'll make sure his father gets it back."

"No, you can make sure his father gets the ring back," Catherine hissed, using every ounce of strength she had left to hang on. "Stop being so chatty, you're not chatty. Do something useful and swing your right hand over so I can…" her eyes snapped shut as another dizzy spell hit.

"You'll pass out if you don't pull yourself up," An said.

"No," Catherine opened her eyes and pushed past the pain, "There's a way out of this…" she tried to think. The thin board supporting her lower torso and hips creaked, which was not a reassuring sound. "We just… we just have to hold on until Steve finds us," Catherine tried to stay calm, "He will. He's close. He promised."

"There's another way. I let go," An whispered.

"No, that is not an option."

"I'm weighing you down, you'll fall with me and what good does that do anyone?"

"I'm not letting go," Catherine growled, sinking her nails into the woman's wrist. She could see the same look in An's eyes that she'd seen up on the roof of the Merchant Street building when An had almost blown herself up. An wanted a way out, she'd been looking for it for a long time. "Don't do this. Come on, think about your parents," Catherine begged the woman to hang on. "You say you're a coward, but I know you can fight. You fought against Wo Fat and Lawson. You helped me. Fight now, fight for your parents."

"My parents are alive because of you. This way I die for something, for you… making amends. My life will have been worth something."

"Your life is worth something," Catherine insisted. "Your parents love you. Doris found you good parents because she cared about your mother and she cared about you."

An refocused her efforts, "If the evidence isn't enough you'll need to testify against Lawson. Don't be afraid to do that, tell your story and mine when the time comes. He can't hurt you anymore unless you let him. You have a husband and a son who'll be devastated if you die for real this time. Evan needs parents now, he's just a baby. He has a whole life ahead of him. Like you said, I helped him into this world. I won't help take his mother from him. He needs you."

"Yes… yes, he needs me," Catherine agreed, her hands cramping, head pounding, "He also needs a mother who wouldn't let a friend die."

"A friend," An sighed regretfully, "I know Lawson will never apologize to you, and my brother can't. So I'm saying it. I'm sorry."

"You will be sorry if you drag me down with you!" Catherine shouted. The rickety board against her chest made a loud crack. She could actually feel it starting to give way. "Climb up me, we don't have time for this… stop trying to die for something. Live for something. I will not let go of you!"

"I know," An actually smiled, "You're the most forgiving person I've ever met, Catherine… please don't blame yourself for this," she pleaded before letting go.

"NO!" Catherine's voice echoed across the ravine as An's body slipped free of her hold.

She still tried to reach out, but there was nothing to catch. The warm night air slipped between her fingers.

An rapidly sunk out of sight, swallowed by the darkness.

Catherine's eyes closed for a second, but she didn't have time to dwell on what had just happened. The board finally snapped in half, which pushed her at least another foot over the edge. Her center of gravity swayed with the rope bridge. Catherine felt her foothold beneath the other board begin to slip. Her right arm was practically numb, her fingers cramped from holding on to An. She was worried any attempt to shift, to turn and try to pull up, might cause her to fall as well.

"Steve!" Catherine yelled for him, knowing it was futile.

She groped behind her back and managed to unzip the main compartment a little. Catherine reached inside to grab the CB radio.

Her fingers grasped the antenna and she slowly worked it free. It was clutched against her chest with great care as she searched channels.

"Everest," she tried a station of her own, "This is Mumbai… to do read?"

Nothing but static greeted her ears so she tried a different channel. And another one after that.

Catherine repeated her message several times. She couldn't hear the helicopter and figured Steve must have landed. She didn't hear anything from the waterfall side, which meant Vichy and his boys hadn't starting searching yet or An's door goop was keeping them at bay. It didn't seem likely anyone would be on the training grounds Khalil had mentioned, not so late at night, but that didn't stop her from wondering if Steve had been captured.

The throbbing in her head reached critical mass and her vision began to narrow.

Her life didn't flash before her eyes. There was just one sweet image that stood out; Steve dipping Evan's little toes into the ocean.

Live for something. Catherine's own advice echoed in her head.

"Everest, if you can hear me…" she spoke into the radio, remembering what Steve had once said about her having a climbing body. Catherine was exhausted; emotionally and physically. She still found the strength to focus all her effort into pulling herself up.

"There's been a change of plan…" she whispered. "We…"

000

They stood huddled beneath the airport's fancy ceiling on Sunday afternoon. Last day of their vacation. Christmas Day.

His pack was slumped in a nearby chair. Her bag rested against the highly polished tile floor at their feet. His hands were both at her waist. Her hands were clasped at the back of his neck. Their foreheads pressed against one another. "You look kind of cyclopsy," she chuckled, joking around, afraid of the other emotion that might seep through if she allowed it.

"Pretty sure cyclopsy is not a real word," he grinned, pushing hair behind her left ear, "Seems a book nerd would know that."

Catherine smiled and nodded without breaking their embrace. A voice overhead called out flight information, the friendly female voice Catherine recalled from before. The voice smoothly conveyed a flight number and gate assignment, insisting it was the last call for all passengers to board. Catherine knew it was her flight. They were standing beside the gate and nearly everyone else was already through the door. "I don't like this part, saying goodbye," she sighed against his lips.

"Maybe we should stop saying goodbye then," Steve suggested, "And just keep making plans."

She grinned upon hearing that suggestion. Catherine took a deep breath and then a step back so she was able to look him in both eyes, "You know you can't out climb or out hike all of your problems, Steve. And as much as I enjoy sex with you, too… I'm also a pretty good listener," she offered.

He gave a quick nod, "I know… when I'm ready," Steve kissed her; thankful for her understanding and support. "Next year we'll celebrate Christmas together on Oahu."

"I like the sound of that plan," she gave into one more brief kiss then reached down to grab her pack.

---

To be continued…