Summary: Matt and CID manage to pinpoint Asha's signature before the boss' timeline runs out. But Remy's not prepared for what she finds in the super spy's simulation. It brings up questions she thought she already had the answers to.

a/n: Thanks again Chy. *hugs*

Free to Be

06 Questioning

-1-

"I'm trying to save your ass, you uppity machine," Matt declared calmly. "I'm not sure how you got through shocking her again unscathed, but I've seen that look she gave you before. She's going to start dismantling you in a few hours if you don't have something concrete."

"The agent's signature is proving exceedingly difficult to pinpoint."

"Is it because of their unfamiliarity with one another?"

"Clarify, please."

"In going through the logs, Kinzie said that you were locating people based on commonalities in encoding based on memories and shared experience. Asha and Re- … the president had very limited contact."

CID made no reply initially. "That is an interesting theory, but I was able to locate your signature fairly easily, which would suggest that would not be the case."

Matt rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Except that the president and I have tried to kill one another. Bit of a defining moment, you could say."

"Indeed, perhaps that is part of the key. The emotional connection to the situations."

"That would certainly explain why you are having trouble locating Asha," Miller replied with a laugh.

"Do explain yourself, Mr. Miller," the AI requested.

"Agent Odekar is very good at her job. She is very detached. From everything. She does not connect with people, events, or anything too closely. Emotion clouds performance and judgment," he said rather more quietly than he intended. "Or at least that is what she always told me."

CID bobbed up and down slightly then seemed to settle a little closer to the ground. "More."

"Pardon?"

"Your input could help me better refine my search. Please, more data."

"It is not really data, CID."

The AI buzzed at him like an irritated typewriter.

Matt held up his hands. "Fine, fine. Whatever you say. She is calculating and thinks out her actions in advance like a chess player. She's deadly and can pretty much pick up any weapon and use it."

"No good. I assumed that she mirrored your president in that manner."

Matt stared at CID for a long moment. "She's not my president. She's not my anything, really," he said quietly, recalling the conversation that led him to hide out in the AI's dungeon in the first place. The device just seemed to stare at him, though it did not have any other option, really, Matt considered. He shook his head quickly.

"Asha is protective. Watches out for people," Matt stated, his tone implying a question of the usefulness of his information. As he described the woman he had been working with since joining MI-6 seven years earlier, the programmer watched the orbs responses, both virtually and physically. A smile started to curve his lips when he watched two of the bright spots fade back into the map on his handheld. Down to three, he thought as he checked the time. Three hours left. We might be able to pull this off. Miller started wracking his memory for details that might help CID zero-in on the woman who had trained him, worked with him, who was one of the few people he could actually call a friend.

-2-

An hour before the deadline she had set, Remy was sitting in the simulation room with Kinzie, Shaundi, and Pierce. The redhead had informed them that CID was down to two signals, and while the others stared at her screen, Remy watched a clock tick down slowly. Her switchblade lay on the console near her thigh and she was leaned back in the chair with her fingers laced behind her head. It was clear that no one in the room picked up on the tension in her body; she chalked it up to them being just as tense, just as on edge, though Remy had an extra reason for her own added edge.

"We found the signature," Matt announced from behind her.

The triumph in his smile seemed to falter a little when Remy glanced at him over her shoulder. It was a tiny reminder of her push. It's better that way, she thought, turning away and eying the dock.

"Does he have the cipher yet?" Kinzie asked in that fast-paced voice she got when something needed to be done right now.

Remy tuned them out. Her mind stuck on repeat bouncing between that disappointment in his voice earlier and that little falter in his eye just now. She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head slightly. You should come with a fucking warning label, she told herself. Keep away from humans or anything with squishy parts or feelings that could get hurt. What made it worse is that she had heard that voice before, seen that look in his eye.

Picking up her knife and tucking it into the pocket on her thigh, she stood and crossed to the docks. "Guess CID, lives another day. Let me know when you have the cipher," she announced, fully aware she was interrupting whatever the hell they had been talking about. There was a moment of stunned silence as she waited for Pierce to close the dock on her.

Remy could kill time while the cipher was completed. It was a damn sight better than doing nothing and letting her mind run away with her again.

-3-

Every other time the mission started things felt the same, but this go around Odekar had a subtle inkling of hope, maybe with both of them they could accomplish the mission. Maybe all Asha needed to get the job done was back-up, though there were times when she wondered. McGinnis' style was not Asha's cup of tea. The woman was brash and brazen. Sure, she had skill, but her ego was intense and sometimes too much. Remy was good and she knew it.

After kicking the grating open, Remy lowered herself through the opening, dropping to the floor below. As the other woman swept the area, Asha recalled the one thing she did like about Remy. Despite everything else, the woman was a professional and she knew how to handle herself. It was about the only thing Odekar did not have to worry about with the leader of the Saints.

As much as she hated to admit it, except for her ego and the fact that Remy was a little more aggressive in her tactics, Asha did not mind working with the former-gang-leader-turned-politician. She could fight, she could shoot, and she was damned reliable when things got hairy. Yeah. This could work. Maybe.

"Stay on guard, Mr. X could be hiding anywhere," Asha ordered after hitting the ground a few feet from the shorter blonde.

"Asha."

"What the-" Remy muttered at the sound of the voice.

Asha held up her hand quickly to silence her. She did not want Mr. X to realize that the tactics had changed.

"I thought you knew me better than that. Why would I hide when I can kill your friends in front of you?" the evil twin queried mockingly.

And the taunting begins, the agent thought.

"Say hello Matt," Mr. X ordered with a maniacal smirk on her one-eyed mug.

The agent ignored the sharp intake of breath from behind her. She had experienced a similar reaction the first time around.

Matt looked haggard like always. It could have been from a beating, or maybe the Masako goons had drugged him. His head lolled toward the camera, and as always he only said, "Asha, I-," before the single shot silenced him. The orange clad operatives dropped his body to the ground, the camera focusing on the kid she had been working with for seven years before going back to her target.

"Good talk." Mr. X holstered her weapon as the camera returned to her face. "Wow, you're cold. Johnny cried like a little bitch when his girlfriend got killed."

"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction," Asha replied tersely. It was not the time, nor the place. Either way, she had seen it enough times to know it was not real. She had reacted the first time-been appalled and angry. It did not help then, and would not help now.

"Ooh, I love it when you talk tough," the evil McGinnis taunted.

"Then you're gonna fucking love me you piece of shit." The lithe little blonde darted out of the shadows. Her ire was peaked. It was the type of reaction X had been hoping for out of Odekar, the agent knew.

Asha touched the president's shoulder lightly, trying to get her grounded again. She needed the other woman calm, with her head in the right place, not irate and off the handle. Remy shrugged her off, glaring at her evil twin.

"You …" X crooned.

"See you soon." Remy blew a little kiss at the screen right before the evil version of herself growled and cut the feed. "Guess no one ever told her you're not supposed to wear white after Labor Day. Let's go."

Odekar, taken aback slightly by the reaction that McGinnis exhibited, followed without a word, but she watched the other woman even more carefully now. When asked, the agent revealed what was happening in the facility. Mr. X was cloning Remy, well, herself, both of them really-the mission briefing, which detailed the operation, had described it as the replication of a highly sociopathic paradigm. With that exact description, McGinnis grimaced. Asha was well aware of the other woman's denial of that particular descriptor.

"You know I'm not really a sociopath. I mean, sure, I have some sociopathic tendencies, but really, who doesn't?" Remy mumbled. "Have you seen that list? You've got at least a few of those markers, too."

Thankfully the conversation was cut short by the ingress of a crew of Masako agents. Clearing the path toward the center of Mr. X's compound was running fairly smoothly this time. The last time Asha had failed she was limping through this hall with her belt cinched around her thigh to stem the blood flow of a critical shot to the thigh. By that comparison, this go was stellar.

After clearing a third squad the two women took a moment to regroup. Remy looked over at her several times, but never said anything.

"What?" the agent asked finally.

McGinnis' mouth tightened, as she chewed at the inside of her cheek a moment. "Listen, Asha. About Matt-"

Shaking her head, the agent held up her hand. "Don't. I'm not sure what this whole thing is, but it isn't real. While I don't relish the idea of seeing someone I care about being murdered over and over again, I also don't see the purpose to needless blubbering."

"Hey I was just-"

The defensiveness in McGinnis' tone hardened Odekar's resolve. "Focus. On. The Job. That's all I need from you right now."

The petite blonde lifted her suppressed SMG, slamming a fresh clip into the weapon. "Rock the fuck on! Let's go kick my ass!"

-4-

Remy did not have a chance to consider anything that had happened in the simulation too long, but it all shook her-Matt's death, the conversation with Asha over the dead body of her evil twin, and the fact that she was someone's nightmare. When the dock opened and she stepped out, the boss laid her hand on the console near her to steady herself. Her head spun for a moment, but this time it was not merely an effect of leaving the simulation.

"Tell me we're close," she breathed heavily as glanced over at Kinzie.

"Yep. Be there in ten."

Her friend seemed preoccupied with whatever was on her screen. If Pierce noticed anything, he did not mention it. He merely nodded at Remy and the two turned toward the rear of the ship. Pierce said stayed silent as he followed the boss aft to the cargo bay.

"Why aren't you using the power armor, Boss?" her lieutenant asked as they trotted down the stairs.

Remy had not been expecting to see Matt in the bay, though when she did it seemed completely appropriate. They were retrieving his partner; of course, he would be there.

"Kinzie says there's a bug in the programming that keeps making the weapons lock up," Remy explained. When she reached the table she picked up one of the alien rifles Miller had laid out for their infiltration onto the mother ship to retrieve the super spy, as the hacker had dubbed Odekar prior to McGinnis entrance into the MI-6 agent's nightmare.

"We've been trying to run it down," Matt injected. "But it's still not stable."

"And I'm not taking any chances. So we go back to the old standby," Remy noted, grabbing a pistol. "Just try to keep up."

"I'll be fine," Matt griped.

The other two turned and looked at him. Remy had been talking to Pierce, who had a tendency lag behind her when things got thick. It was not hiding so much as letting himself get pinned down; it was a trend that irritated her to no end.

"You're not going," Pierce said in a tone that suggested there was a question about it.

"The hell I'm not!"

Washington straightened as if to argue the point, but Remy's upheld hand stopped him. With a quick nod of her head, her lieutenant left to check on their arrival window.

"Matt," she said with a calm guiding voice. "Look at me, Miller. I understand you want to help. But I can't take you onto that ship."

"I'm not asking," the young man all but growled.

"Neither am I." The boss' tone was more severe.

"She's my partner. My friend. My responsibility," he argued. The look in his eyes was one she knew all too well-guilt. He was here, relatively safe. She was not.

Remy took a step toward him, setting her hand on his shoulder at the juncture of his neck and his eyes rose to her face. Her heart was racing, recalling the scenario that played out in Asha's simulation. Even knowing it was not real, she still reacted to her evil self shooting him-overreacted, as it were. Her pulse was thudding through her veins again and her chest tightened with the memory of it. Looking up at him, she felt the same fear, the guilt that had haunted her in that moment when the gun went off and the Masako agents dropped his lifeless body to the ground. Despite the fact that he was standing in front of her, perfectly fine, Remy still felt the desperation and loss, the fear-she could still hear the shot that interrupted what she assumed was an apology for being captured, for failing.

"I know. And you helped CID narrow down which signature was hers. You've done your job. Now let me finish mine."

Matt's jaw tightened. There was defiance in his eyes for a moment before he nodded his acquiescence. Remy smiled and patted his cheek. When he held her hand there for a moment, gazing at her intensely, everything slowed and her mind clouded.

-5-

Matt refused to let go of her hand when Remy tried to retreat; he just stared at her trying to stop the boss from drifting off again. But he could not keep her there, could not anchor her in that fleeting moment. The surprise and fear swirled in her eyes. As the bay door motors began to whine, her fingers slipped out of his grasp.

"Hey Boss," Pierce called, returning from the bridge at brisk jog. "If we hurry, we should be able to catch up to her."

Remy grabbed the rifle off the table and walked purposefully to the end of the ramp. Once the ship was close enough to the platform, the boss hopped down with Pierce right behind her.

Turning toward the open door, Miller felt nailed to that spot, frozen. He watched the two of them move down the platform with sturdy determination. When the massive heavy door closed again, Matt was alone; abandoned to his thoughts, his worry, his fear, and a new and striking shred of hope. It was the most overwhelming sensation he could remember. That little glimmer in the encroaching darkness was blinding, warm, and dizzying-even more so than that night in Prague.

The metal of the table was cool. First he pressed his palms against the smooth surface then he leaned across it, pressing his face to it in search of relief from his stupor. As he closed his eyes, his mind tricked him, convinced him he could still feel her lips on his. Unexpected, it felt like an illusion. Even though he was entirely certain that it had actually happened, it made no sense. Why? Why him? Why now? This place, this time. He could not explain this anymore than he could decipher what had occurred three years earlier.

Allowing himself to slip to the floor, he glanced around the cargo bay quickly until his gaze settled on a blue light, small and steady, but out of reach, just like her. She had always been that way. That was a lesson he learned firsthand in a lavish garden in the Czech Republic. It was also the night he found out she could dance. Matt pressed his fingers to his lips as the ruefulness seeped through him and he fell into a memory he usually kept sequestered in the deep recesses of his mind.

The small chamber orchestra bespoke the lavishness of the affair, though it was only one aspect of the event that marked it as a high society function. Asha was interrogating the man she and the blonde had kidnapped hours earlier, while Matt and Remy were tasked with finding his contact at the party. A face was all they needed, though a name would be better.

Miller should not have asked her to dance, but McGinnis looked so bored. The slight sway in her hips, as the music wafted on the cool evening breeze that swirled through the ballroom through the several open French doors that faced the impeccably manicured gardens, suggested she might be amenable to his proposal. It was outside of mission parameters, or at least that was what the voice in his head told him each time he considered asking her to dance. Finally the young agent overruled that cautious voice, which had begun to sound deceptively like Asha's. The strangest part of it all was that he did not really ask.

Matt crossed the room with his eyes locked on his target, weaving through the mass of people effortlessly. When he reached her, he plucked the glass out of her hand, setting it on the piano. Remy looked at him with a trace of confusion on her brow and a clear question in her eyes. Matt did not explain himself; he merely took her hand, led her the few feet to where others were dancing, and pulled her into the strong hold his father had taught him as a boy.

Apparently, waltzing was like riding a bicycle, because he had somehow not forgotten the dance. To his great surprise, Remy followed his lead as they glided across the oak parquet floor with the other dancers. It was the first time he remembered really noticing her eyes-the color, the expressiveness, the beauty-and they never left his for a moment. Even then, in that innocent exchange she intoxicated him with a look, reminded him just how young and foolish he was-too much like a boy playing at being a man; although he knew part of that was of his own making. Matt had been fascinated by her longer than it was prudent to admit, but in that moment none of that came into play.

Intense was a word often used to describe the leader of the Saints. Her presence was palpable, and as he directed her body through a Viennese Waltz the way she looked at him surprised him. There was no trace of what he remembered from their last face-to-face encounter.

Since her arrival in Prague, Remy had only looked at him with a shocking amount of respect. She listened to him, even when Matt knew he had veered beyond her knowledge base; in her eyes he could see a professional consideration for him. Though that night, as he held her in his arms, he thought he saw … maybe, hoped, was a better word. Matt hoped he saw that he was not the only one drowning out a voice in the corner of his mind, laden with warnings about propriety and reminders of duty.

When the song ended, her hand squeezed his as her eyes darted toward the door. He noticed what she had quickly enough to see a burly man with a red tie slip out into the gardens. Remy's hand was tight around his as she dragged Matt out into the darkness. They quickly found the man, and another, they presumed to be the contact. Silently, they snapped a few pictures hoping to get one with enough feature detail to analyze later for an identity. Then the men started on a stroll and both operatives knew they were likely to be found out in the little blocked alcove.

Matt still remembered the utter shock he felt when she grabbed his lapel. Her lips fitting to his stalled his brain entirely. The shock faded as the footsteps scraping against the rocks became more clearly audible. His response was cautious at first, setting his hands on her waist before letting his desire run off with him. It was a sensation he had imagined-kissing her, embracing her-but dreams always pale in comparison to reality.

The move made in desperation took on a new tenor as he wrapped his arms around her. Remy's fingers twined in the hair at the back of his head, nails stroking gently, as the tension in her lips faded. A kiss of necessity, an act meant to fool curious onlookers, quickly became something frighteningly and fantastically real. Once the footsteps passed their location, the two of them reluctantly parted. When he looked down at her, he saw the same thing in her eyes that he had seen there on the ship after she kissed him for the second time-surprise and fear.

The stammered apology offered in whispers was punctuated by her thumb trying to dash away the crimson evidence of their exchange marring his lips. As she fumbled to disguise what had happened, Matt battled against the desire to do it again. The only difference would be that this time, the kiss would not be an attempt to conceal their presence and purpose; it would be to announce his interest, his desire. Sadly, his resolve took too long to solidify. Remy tugged him out of the garden and back into the party; upon reaching the door, her hand slipped from his, she let him go and drifted away into the crowd.

That night, just like on the ship, he watched her fade away into the distance for a time, but when Remy returned to him later there was no trace of the woman from earlier in the evening, there was no evidence of the woman who had kissed him in the garden. As Matt rested his elbows on his knees, he stared at that blue light in the cargo bay and became certain that would happen again. Remy would slip away from him and hide away-just as she did that night, and just as she had been over the last several weeks since breaking him out of the simulation.

There were moments of connection, where she would talk with him, interact with him freely, openly. Then in a matter of minutes or hours, the distance would return. Remy mimicked the ebb and flow of the tide in that way. He did not know what could have prompted her to crash into him the way she had before she returned to the mother ship for his partner, but he feared that her normal pattern combined with Asha's retrieval would cause the boss to withdraw even farther than usual. It was not a thought he relished.

-6-

Asha leaned against the sink and glanced down at her thigh. Rookie mistake. Can't believe you let that happen. She met her own eyes in the mirror, the memory of repeated failures still fresh enough to sting. In some circles she was considered one of the best. The best. Ha! You couldn't manage taking down one sociopath without the help of another.

The light knock on the door made her look away from the person she was pissed at. "In," she called sharply. "Well, speak of the devil."

"That would explain why my ears were burning," the other woman observed with a wide smug grin.

Was she always this cocky? The president was leaning in the doorway with that goddamn look of self-satisfaction that made the MI-6 agent want to deck her.

"I come bearing gifts. Well, medical supplies," Remy said, shaking the large white box. "Those look pretty ugly."

"Yeah, well."

"That nutrient crap can be disorienting."

Asha tilted her head at the shorter woman. She was giving her an out, excusing Asha's misstep. It was something she would expect from a friend, from a colleague, but not from Remy McGinnis. The blonde opened the kit and sat down near the sink.

"Those damn things scar up like a bitch," the gang leader noted as she slathered a thick silvery concoction on the wound on Odekar's lower back. "You can get the thigh yourself, agent."

"Thanks," Asha noted, taking the little white jar.

McGinnis placed a bandage over the wound. Then stood and washed her hands. "Not a problem at all."

Odekar toyed with the lid on the jar for a moment, before she opted to speak. "You know it was more about the repeated failure than you in power."

"What?"

"All that. It had next to nothing to do with you."

"Oh. Umm… Yeah, I get it. I mean I'm kind of the same way. Get the job done. We just tend to get there from different routes," Remy said, toweling her hands dry.

"That's putting it mildly," Asha laughed. "You're not Mr. X."

"I know. I have a lot less facial hair," Remy said, cringing.

The two of them both laughed lightly.

"True, and you look better as a blonde."

Remy chuckled lightly as she leaned against the sink. "That's for sure. You should be good to go."

"Appreciate it. All of it," Odekar stated quietly, neither meeting one another's gaze.

The president left the agent alone to gather herself and handle the second wound that Asha could reach on her own. It should not have mattered, any of it. Odekar was not even sure why she had mentioned the simulation, except that she felt a little guilty about having mentioned the other woman's family and it seemed to have disturbed the president as well.

There's nothing for it now, she thought as she zipped up the jumpsuit. Everyone was gathered in the circular room on the lower deck, and Asha made her way there. The absence of their boss did not escape her notice. She crossed to Matt and clapped him on the shoulder.

"It's good to see you again, Agent Miller," she greeted with a little bit too much relief. "Really good. So, give me the skinny."

Matt just looked at her carefully for several moments. "Well, there is no easy way to put this. Earth is gone."

"I know. The president told me," she stated plainly. It still seemed a little far-fetched, but the desperate look in Pierce's eyes had suggested it was all true.

"Of course. I guess she would," Matt replied flatly, his eyes moving to the blonde who had been pulled into the room by Washington.

"Are you doing all right, Matt?"

"Stellar." He looked down at his hands then straightened. "Want some tea? I think I'm going to make some tea."

Asha stared after him as her partner exited the room, but she was not alone for long.

"Are you feeling okay?" Kinzie asked with what sounded like genuine concern.

"Besides being repeatedly sick, I'm doing fine."

"Good. Just a heads up. You'll probably feel like hell for a few days."

Asha's crooked smiled belied her amusement. "I doubt it. I have the stomach of a goat, or so my father used to say."

"Mine always told me I had the forehead of one," Remy chimed from across the room.

"I'm pretty sure that is completely true."

Remy shrugged with a little tilt of her head. "Touché."