A/N: I have finally come back here. I know this one's short but I was forced to revise the direction of this story a bit.

Chapter 7

She bit back a yelp of pain as Alex gingerly dabbed the alcohol soaked cloth across one of the many raw red welts left by Blair's whip. Alex had seen many wounds; being the team's designated medic and this was nothing new to him. Neither was his patient; Shana had always been the worst patient: she always refused to stay put, wanting to be back in the fight immediately. But she was the absolute best to have at your back; put a target in front of her and she'd take him down, armed or not.

Alex could remember a couple of times when he was with her and the two of them were captured. Their adversaries always seemed to think that they could break her easily; that she would crack under pressure faster than he would. They always picked the hardest nut to crack; she was near invincible, unbreakable. She always did have a great tolerance for pain, but even she had limits.

Something was different about her and this situation. She was doing this to protect someone, a specific someone. He had seen the pictures; seemed like nice enough people, but the effort she was making pointed to something more. He couldn't be sure; not without an admission from her, but he had a feeling that it was about the blond man who was signing something to her in one of the pictures. Alex did not know who he was or what he had been saying to her. He vaguely wondered if Ian was aware of this person.

Hector was in the room; watching Alex doing his task, and trying to reason with Shana. Hector was third in command; at 6'7" it was funny that this tall African-American man had to answer to the lithe 5'4" red headed woman, he was attempting to reason with.

"Give him something; tell him you had a change of heart. Do something, Shana, before he kills you." Hector said as he paced the length of the room.

"I will not jeopardize any to whom I swore allegiance to. I would rather die and you know that." She replied.

"Nothing is worth this, it's meaningless."

"No it's not. I chose to face this alone and that's what I'm going to do. When I made my choice, I was aware that I'd be alone."

"There was no choice to make."

"I had chosen before I made the trip to New York, I didn't want to involve anyone else so I could prove something."

"What are you trying to prove?"

"My own worth, I think, that I can do something right on my own. Sometimes I'm treated like dirt; I don't really fit in, because I'm not a card-carrying member of the club. It stinks, you know, and it hurts. It wouldn't hurt as much if I didn't know some of these people as long as I have."

"So why are you protecting them?"

"I honestly don't know. Maybe it's because I have known them as long as I have. Maybe it is in my nature, but that's a crappy answer and I know it. Maybe it's because I want to look in a mirror and see someone worthwhile."

"You are worthwhile."

"Sure, and that's why people I trust and depend on treat me like shit. I feel like I have to prove that I can handle things on my own, without anyone's help."

"A wise warrior knows when to stand alone and when to take another's hand."

"Perhaps Moby, but when the warrior's chances depend on standing alone. I need to prove it."

"The only person you need to prove anything to, Shana, is yourself," Hector paused, "If you're certain that they'll come here; you know Blair will not hesitate to make good on his word. He will kill them; you have both the means and motive to play the change of heart. You know us, Shana; we will back you up either way. But if you want to save their lives; you need to have some pull with Blair."

"Sell my soul to the devil and become the angel of death once more, Moby?"

"The phoenix means life..."

"To the Black Dragons, Hector, everyone else be damned. I was an assassin, Hector; I was the shadowy figure in the night leaving only bodies in my wake. Death doesn't only follow me; it chases me, everything I touch dies. I couldn't stand it so I stopped being Phoenix; I stopped being the dark angel of death. I didn't want it, not after Anna Figilia." She finished her voice tired and sad.

"You can't blame yourself. Anna Figilia was an accident that you had no control over. She allowed her anger to get out of hand; she had no reason to be there or to go after the target. Even Blair tried to reach her, and you tried your hardest to save her."

"But I didn't try hard enough, Hector."

"Anna would've wanted you to protect them. It may be the only chance at redemption any of us have."

"Redemption, huh?" she asked, incredulously, "You actually believe that?"

"Do you?"

"I'd like to; it would be nice to think that there is hope for someone like me. My hands are stained with so much blood. I think I would like the chance to be forgiven, to be able to be a normal person. It would beat being an assassin I think." She finished, pensive and hopeful.

"You were an assassin because they wanted you to be. You're not like that in reality." Alex reason, entering the conversation.

"Maybe I am." She began, "You can't know that for sure, Alex. I trained with the absolute best in the business; and they saw something in me that was the same as them. I don't want to think that I was always meant to be a cold-blooded killer. I'll play the game for my chance at redemption."

She thought about what playing the game meant: she would willingly turn over the information that Blair wanted, she would betray her teammates and go against her very soul. She hated anyone to call her Phoenix anymore; she wanted nothing more than to rid herself of that part of her and her past.

Now she was stepping back into it; becoming the angel of death again and the belief that she only could destroy life came rushing back. The fear that if she got too close to someone they could die had resurfaced. She wondered was this her fate, her true purpose, was she always doomed to be a deadly shadow at the disposal of people like Christian Blair.