Chapter 18

Oscar strode briskly down the stairs without stopping at his office. ''Where is he?'' he demanded of the guard who had called in the alarm.

''We can't find him, Sir,'' the guard admitted.

''What the hell do you mean you can't find him? One man and all of you let him slip down where he doesn't belong?''

''We checked Mark Conrad's cell as you requested. He's alone; Doctor Marchetti isn't there.''

''Well then what could he possibly want then?'' Oscar thundered. Suddenly it hit him. ''Oh no...he wouldn't!'' Oscar turned and ran down one more flight of stairs himself, his heart sinking. Michael must be here for revenge! Oscar HAD to get there in time, before the young doctor did something foolish!

Anna never even felt it. The conical arrangement of wires touched her neck and her head lolled forward (much the same way that Jaime's had). Michael moved quickly to sit between Anna and the wall, directly facing her. ''Look at me, Anna,'' he commanded calmly.

Anna raised her head and blinked as her vision cleared. Her gaze was held prisoner by the dark eyes of the young man seated before her and instead of being the one in control, she found she couldn't look away.

''I'm in the drivers seat now; you no longer have control over anyone. Do you understand?''

''Yes.'' She sat quietly, obediently, not fighting her restraints and completely unsure of what had just happened to her.

''You're going to do what I tell you - exactly the way I tell you to do it. Do you understand?''

''Yes,'' she answered again.

Suddenly, the door of the cell flew open. ''What the hell are you doing here?'' Oscar demanded, livid at Michael's breech of every rule of protocol.

Michael didn't look up; he kept his gaze locked with Anna's. ''Oscar, pleas trust me,'' he said quietly, ''And give us few more minutes -''

''A few more minutes to...what? Kill her? Doctor Marchetti, you're in very serious trouble.''

''I'll explain everything,'' Michael said evenly. He had Anna exactly where she needed to be and touched her (shackled) hand to keep her focus solely on him. ''But right now you need to trust me. When I'm done, you can throw me in a cell if that's what you need to do...but you need to let me continue. Trust me, Oscar; you want this to continue.''

By now, half a squadron of guards had arrived in the hallway behind Oscar, who still stood in the open doorway. He could see that their most important (and dangerous) prisoner had not been harmed - and her shackles meant that she couldn't harm Michael. The surgeon's intense focus on whatever it was he was doing made Oscar pause. And yet there was no observation window (as there would be in an interrogation cell) so he couldn't exactly close the door and leave them to it. ''Go ahead,'' Oscar told Michael, scarcely believing he was saying it, ''but I'll need to stay right here.''

Michael shook his head. ''Give me just a few minutes alone here, please,'' he requested.

Without any idea what was being done to his prisoner, for Oscar, Michael's request bordered on the absurd. He stood his ground. ''I'll need you to brief me first, then possibly you can continue but -''

Michael's concentration never wavered. ''Oscar, this is imperative,'' he announced. ''Five minutes. Maybe less. I'll rap on the door when we're done but for now, please just trust me - for the good of your own investigation. Please!''

Oscar stunned even himself by what he did next. He took a step from the door...into the hallway. ''Five minutes; no more,'' he announced, nodding to the guard to close and lock the heavy cell door. He had no idea what Marchetti was attempting to do - and hadn't yet been filled on the near-miraculous results achieved with Jaime but for now the Director of the OSI stood in a dank, ugly hallway staring at a closed door and wondering exactly what the hell was going on. What had he just agreed to?

''NO!'' Becca announced in a tiny little voice as Steve lowered her into bed.

''Time for sleep, Peanut,'' he told her firmly.

''You've had a long, busy day,'' Jaime added. We all have, she thought to herself, her arm snaking around her husband so they presented a united front.

''No!'' Becca said again. She wasn't getting out of bed and allowed her parents to tuck the covers around her, but clearly she wasn't happy. ''No, no, no...bunn-eee!''

''Oh! I'm sorry, Sweetie!'' Jaime said with a chuckle. She retrieved the child's favorite toy from the living room with a deftness and spring in her step that Steve had never expected to see again. Becca's chubby little arms tightened around the well-loved toy as her parents' arms tightened around each other.

For the moment, all was well.

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