Anna was in her office face-down on her desk. She'd decided to close her eyes for just a second, to rest her heavy head for just a moment, but as soon as her forehead made contact with the wood she was out and away. She plunged immediately into exhaustion-fueled dreams – intense, bright, the images shifting quickly.

She was looking up into the sky – blue, clear, expansive. She was breathing heavily and realized that she was cold. She was wet, exhausted, too tired to move. She could feel rocks under her back, waves washing up against her, lapping her body. She wanted to sleep but knew she shouldn't, knew she might drown. A wave washed up over her face; she breathed it in, coughed. She had to get out of the water. But she couldn't move. She heard the sound of footsteps approaching on the rocks.

Suddenly she was standing and walking in a landscape of snow. The sun was shining and reflecting off the white all around her, almost blinding her. She tried to see, tried to decide which direction to go, but everything looked the same – harsh light broken only occasionally by indistinct, dark, unfocused shapes. She stumbled; strong arms grabbed her, pulled her forward. She couldn't see the face of the person holding her. She wasn't sure if she should struggle or give in, if she was in danger or being saved. Her face burned with cold.

The sensation intensified to searing heat. She was thrust off her feet, blown back; she felt the shock of the ground as she hit, shoulder first, then head. She wanted to sleep but knew she shouldn't, she might burn to death. She could hear the snap of fire to her right, tried to move but couldn't. Everything was black with indistinct flickers of light. Her ears were ringing. She felt herself being turned over. She wasn't sure if she should struggle or give in.

She was on her back in a white room. Her body ached – her back, her stomach, her legs. Her vision was blurred, but she could see a dark shape off in the corner. She was immediately afraid. She tried to move but couldn't and realized her arms and legs were strapped. The dark shape began to approach her, hovered above her. She wanted to cry out but couldn't. The figure reached out to her. Then she heard a snap, a crack. She felt something warm hit her face. The figure froze, hung in the air for a moment, then collapsed over top of her. She opened her mouth to scream.

Anna jolted awake.

There was a light knock at the door. "Come in," Mei Wu invited.

The door opened with a light click, swung open a quarter of the way. "It's me. As directed." Giordano smiled cautiously. "You insisted that we meet."

Wu was seated at her desk. The interior of the room was unexpectedly chic and modern – walls white, furniture sleek, a combination of white and chrome – given its location above a cluttered second-hand furniture shop. "I did," she responded. "Now come in all the way and shut the door. I promise I won't bite."

Giordano did as he was told.

There was a knock at Anna's office door. She was sitting bolt upright, still shaken from the dream. One hand went up to straighten her hair. "Come in," she called.

It was Rubin. He gave her a strange look. "Are you all right, Commissioner? You look …"

"I'm fine," Anna insisted. Her heart was pounding in her ears; beads of sweat had collected on the back of her neck and above her lip. "Just a bit tired. What do you want?"

Rubin gingerly held an envelope in his hand. "This was dropped off at the desk for you. Security flagged it as suspicious, but I thought you should look at it before it was sent off for tests. I was pretty sure you'd know better than them if it was …"

"A bomb. A threat. Yes. You did the right thing, Rubin. Let me have it." Anna stood and took the envelope. She looked at the handwriting.

"Thank you, Rubin. It's fine. I'll handle this. I'm sure there's no threat."

Rubin's expression was uncertain.

"Don't worry," she ordered him. "I know who it's from. I trust the source. And I'm curious to find out the contents. So …." She made a gesture for him to leave.

He did. Anna stared at the envelope for a moment before opening it.

Wu stood. "Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink? Or is it too early for you?"

Giordano walked up to the desk. He unbuttoned his jacket and sat down. "I wouldn't say it's ever too early for me. But there are situations in which I prefer to stay clear-headed. If we're going to talk serious business, I might decline your offer."

Mei Wu was standing by a beautiful chrome and glass bar. "I think a drink might make you feel more relaxed, Mr. Giordano. If you're more relaxed, our discussion may be more productive. Scotch? Brandy? I have everything here. I think I'll have some Chartreuse. Do you know it? You're welcome to join me, though I don't know many men who like the taste. It's apparently not sweet enough for the male palate, and the flavour is – how would one say it in English? – 'herbaceous'? May one say that to describe a taste? I've only heard the term used to describe plantings in a garden."

Giordano smiled. "I have no idea. I'm a simple man, Ms. Wu."

She poured two small glasses. "Anyway, I find the flavour very soothing. I hope you do as well."

She handed him one of the drinks. "Chin chin."

He lifted it. "À votre santé." He waited for her to take a sip and then did the same.

Anna opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper inside.

"I'm sorry," it read in familiar handwriting. "I've tried to put things right. Be careful. If I never see you again, know I love you."

Anna felt her gut clench. What in God's name had he done? Though his intentions were usually good, he often made situations worse.

Wu was sitting down again at the desk and across from Giordano. "You like the Chartreuse?" she asked. "I'm impressed. My opinion of you is slightly improved."

Giordano took another sip of the liqueur. "I'm not sure how I feel about the implication. I've not often been thought feminine in my tastes, Ms. Wu – in fact, I think of myself as a man's man. Perhaps I'm a bit old fashioned. More important, I'm starting to grow impatient. Enough with the pleasantries – I'd like to know why you called this meeting. I thought we'd reached a point in our relationship where we could amicably part ways. You assume control over the Asian Quarter and I concentrate on my import/export trade between Canada and the United States. I give you a deal on certain products necessary for you to conduct your business. Otherwise, we simply stay out of each others' way."

Wu didn't smile. "Yes, that was the deal. But that was before."

Giordano put down his glass. "Before what?"

Wu's gaze didn't waver. "Before I knew I'd been played."

Giordano had his gun out and levelled at Wu's chest in an instant. He heard a click from under her desk and cast his eyes down. Her gun was levelled below and through the desk at Giordano's gut.

He smiled. "What we have here is a Mexican standoff, Ms. Wu. What do we do now?"

Anna lifted the handset of her phone and pushed a button. "Rubin, do we have any intel on Giordano's whereabouts? I haven't been keeping up with the reports for the last couple of days. I need that information ASAP."

She looked at the letter again. Damn it, Duke, she thought; why couldn't you just let things be? Somehow, even at a distance, he had to interfere.

"I received an interesting anonymous letter this morning informing me of your deal with Sonny Corinthos. Would you care to explain?" Mei Wu's expression was blank. Giordano suspected this was a clear sign of her fury.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I had no deal with Corinthos. It's been you and me all along. If I'd had an arrangement with Sonny, would I have agreed to his murder? I wanted him out of the picture as badly as you did."

Mei Wu smiled grimly. "I don't see the difficulty. Of course you'd kill someone with whom you had an agreement. It's called betrayal, the sweet double-cross. What better way to control someone than to promise him fidelity?"

"That would only work if the other party trusted me."

"And no one ratted you out. You were a fool to entrust your secret to an enemy. Or to a friend."

"I trust no one. I'm like you. And like everyone else in our line of work."

Mei Wu cocked her head to one side. "Are you still trying to convince me you weren't conspiring with Corinthos? There's no point continuing with the charade, you know. I'll never believe you."

Giordano laughed. "Okay. Cards on the table. I didn't entrust information about my deal with Corinthos to anyone. I tried to use it to threaten and coerce someone into doing what I wanted. It was a calculated gamble that unfortunately didn't work. But I promise you, there will be hell to pay. By trying to get one over on me, you correspondent - it could only be Duke Lavery - has signed his own death warrant, as well as Anna Devane's. Now that everything's out in the open, though, we can still honour our deal. All I want is Canada – I control the trade across the border, in and out. The rest of the business is yours. The take-away from that anonymous letter should be that I chose you over Corinthos. Despite how this all started, we can end it together."

Mei Wu looked as though she was seriously considering Giordano's offer. At the same time, his gun lifted slightly, and his hand seemed to slacken its grip. A gun fired. The silencer muffled the report. No one outside the office heard a thing.

Anna's phone rang once; she snatched it up. "Devane. Yes?"

It was Rubin. "I have one of the detectives assigned to Giordano on the line."

"Put him through."

There was a pause. "Commissioner. Rogers here. I'm on Giordano right now. I followed him to a second-hand furniture place on fifth and Winchester. He went in about a half an hour ago. I haven't seen anyone else enter or leave."

Anna had a bad feeling. "Second-hand furniture doesn't really seem Giordano's thing. We know he's not shopping. Stick with him. Report back when you see movement."

"Okay, Commissioner. Rogers out."

Anna hung up the phone. Her hand was trembling. She still hadn't shaken off the dream and now her professional sixth-sense was thrumming.

Mei Wu rose from her chair. Gino Giordano slumped in his.

"My own calculated gamble," she told him as she walked up beside his chair and kicked away the gun that, in the shock and pain, had fallen from his hand. "Your subtle movement – the foolish gesture inviting me to put up my own gun – cost you your life. I want you to know that before you die, Gino."

She knelt down and looked Giordano in the eye. As she spoke, his crisp white shirt rapidly turned sodden and scarlet, the stain spreading irregularly left to right, up to down. "And I want you to know another thing: this second sweet double-cross – mine of you – was always in the cards. We were never going to end this together, Gino. Never. You're right that the Asian Quarter is mine. But it was never yours to give. And I also want Canada. My father had a home there, a home I never had the privilege to visit. I was raised far away, you see. I was never intended to be part of the family business. But I want my birthright. And I'm claiming it now."

Mei Wu leaned her own face close to Giordano's. Her lips almost brushed his cheeks. "And I want Anna Devane. No one has the privilege of signing her death warrant but me. I have an old score to settle with her and Robert Scorpio. Eventually."

She stood quickly, stepped away from the chair, lifted her gun, and put a second bullet into Gino Giordano, this time in his temple. His body convulsed for a moment and then went perfectly still.

Just as Anna was preparing to leave the office, Rogers called to check in.

"Commissioner. I've been sitting here for three hours. Giordano hasn't come out again. What should I do? There's been no movement."

Anna put a hand to her forehead and leaned into it, exhausted. "Stay there. If Giordano doesn't appear again before your shift ends, get your replacement to meet you there. I'll arrange for another agent to keep an eye on Giordano's penthouse. If he's managed to give us the slip and reappears at the Metro Court, someone will let you know."

Anna sat for a moment after the call ended. Maybe Giordano was slumming. Maybe he was paying an extended visit to a lover. Or maybe something else was going on.

When Anna finally returned home, she found Robert in the living room. She was surprised to see him showered, shaved, dressed in a smart button shirt, sports jacket, and jeans.

"What's this?" she asked. "Are you going out? Meeting your other lover?"

"Do you think she'll like it?" Robert smiled. "Do I look okay?"

"You look better than I do, I'm sure," Anna sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She looked at him again and smiled. "She'll love it. You look very nice. Distinguished. Handsome even. But why? I expected to find you in your pyjamas and slippers. You're convalescing, don't forget."

Robert smiled and shrugged. "No special occasion other than surviving a near-death experience. I feel a new sense of purpose." He walked up and took her hands. "And a desperate need to show you how much I love you, to show you I'm grateful for this second chance."

Anna frowned. "Second?"

Robert shook his head. "Okay, third, fourth, fifth – whatever. I know you've given me more breaks than I deserve. My fate has always been in your hands."

Anna laughed. "It's hardly felt that way to me."

Robert pulled her to him. "Always. The moment I first saw you in Donely's office. You cocked your head and looked at me and I was lost. The moment you sat down next to me in at the bar of the hotel in New York the night of the awards dinner. You turned my world upside down when you walked back into my life. When you came looking for my help and Robin ran into your arms, called you Luv. When I left for Australia. You don't know what it took for me to get on that plane, to leave you and Robin. Even though we weren't together, you were my family. It felt right being around you, with you. That's why I kept coming back."

Anna scowled. "That and you wanted to annoy me, ruin my life. Just when I'd start feeling happy and ready to move on without you, you'd be back in town, sleeping on my couch, flirting with me, reminding me what I'd lost, making me love you again. And then, of course, you'd leave. It was cruel, Robert."

"Well, I had to watch you be with Lavery. Every second of every day I saw you with him, I wanted it to be me."

Anna thought again about the letter, pushed it from her mind. "And I had to watch you with Holly. And Cheryl. That red-headed woman – what was her name? And Kate. It killed me, Robert. But it was important at the time that we let each other go. It wasn't meant to be. There was still too much pain and too much resentment."

Robert looked wistful. "All that time lost. What could have been."

Anna squeezed his hand. "It turned out all right. We became friends again. I had you in my life. That was the most important thing to me. You didn't hate me anymore. And you got to know our daughter."

Robert smiled. "Speaking of our daughter: she dropped off dinner for us. It's being kept warm in the oven."

Not having taken a painkiller since breakfast, Robert convinced Anna to allow him a small glass of wine with dinner. He'd savoured it through the meal but when finished eating immediately drained the glass. He sighed with contentment. "I've had an amazing recovery if I do say so myself," he remarked with a grin. "Incredible healing powers. Honestly, I feel terrific. I think that blow to the head shook off some dust and rust and loosened things up.

Anna sat back with her own glass of wine and looked non-plussed. "Who knew? I should have clocked you a long time ago, and repeatedly."

Robert grinned wider. "You did, in fact – accidentally and on purpose."

Anna smiled. "I suppose I did, sometimes in the throes of anger, sometimes in the throes of passion."

"I preferred the latter."

"I've no doubt you did."

Robert put down his glass. "Do you remember the night Robin and her friend cooked us dinner? And then Robin left the house and slept over? What was that girl's name again?"

Anna nodded. "Her name was Jodi. And I do. I recollect that night very clearly."

"We began up in the bedroom. You looked very beautiful, by the way. But then we decided to take advantage of having the house to ourselves. We decided to christen the kitchen."

Anna began to laugh. "And the little – darlings had left dishes all over the place. They'd cooked us dinner and then left the kitchen an absolute mess. It was disgusting. I was so angry."

"Didn't stop us, though." Robert leaned in. "We started on the floor. You were on top. In your enthusiasm you knocked the table, sent that pot flying. It hit me on the head."

"It gave you a bit of a goose egg, as I recall. I kissed it better – well, I licked cold mashed potatoes off your forehead."

"I finished with you bent over the table and leaned in a puddle of lumpy mushroom gravy." Robert's voice became low, gravely. "You know, I still can't see a dirty pot without getting a little bit aroused. In every mucky dish I see an image of you in a compromising position."

Anna smiled seductively, lifted her empty plate, displayed it for him. "You like what you see, Mr. Scorpio?"

Robert grabbed the dish from her hands, looked at her, then at it. He gave it an exaggerated, drawn-out, theatrically-sensual lick. He put it down.

Anna leaned suggestively over the table.

"Time to do the dishes, Agent Scorpio. This time in consideration of your recent injury I'll try to forgo the blow to the head."

Later, naked and tangled up in Robert's arms and legs, she fell asleep again, hard and fast.

She was lying on the rocks, the water lapping her body. She heard footsteps, quick at first then, as they grew nearer, slower, cautious.

"Robert?" she called out. "Robert?" There had been an explosion. Where was Robert?

She was back in the field of snow. She stumbled. She felt arms pull her in. "Robert?" She was in his arms, she was sure. She could sense him, smell him; she knew his touch. She collapsed into the embrace. She gave everything over. She was safe.

A sudden feeling of vertigo and then shock: she was on the ground. Hands pulled at her; she felt her clothing drag against cement. Someone turned her over onto her back. Her cheek was hot, wet. She felt ashamed, wanted to roll away, crawl back into the fire.

Then she felt blood hit her face, the weight of a body across hers, a hand across her mouth.

"Quiet." A woman's voice. "Your life depends on it. Can you understand me?"

Anna felt her head nod. The figure lifted her hand. She lifted the dead weight of the body off of Anna; it slipped, nauseatingly limp, to the floor. She untied Anna's hands and feet, peered into her eyes.

"Can you stand?"

Anna felt her mouth open but couldn't form the words to respond.

"You don't need to answer, just do it. We need to get out of here fast."

She helped Anna swing her feet to the side of the bed, braced her under the shoulder. Anna's legs buckled at first. She felt weak, weaker than she'd felt in her life. And more afraid.