November 19, 1958

"What do you think's going on?" Levine asked.

Outside the snow swished down. It was getting colder; the seasons were changing. The nature of their work had changed as well. With the loss of the Starjammers and targets their work had once again become more clerical. A new team would have to be formed, but they knew that they needed mutant back-up now. That was a whole new can of worms for the higher-ups to deal with, so they had been sent back to getting thier information in order. They had never stopped sifting through data during the investigation, but the concentration had shifted back to it recently.

"I don't know," Moira replied as they made their way to McCone's office, "We're getting close; it's probably just another few reports. And there are the Genoshan ambassadors coming in tonight. It could be about that."

"Them, the prime minister, and his sister," sighed Levine, "It's like a non-stop party where we don't have any fun."

"We have fun," Moira grinned.

"Not all the time," he said, "There are the trials in a few days."

He smiled.

"Still, for all his thunder it was interesting to see Kelly reduced to a burbling mass," said Levine, "Trask was no fun at all, still so icy."

As chief investigators they had been allowed to watch the interrogators. It had chilled her to know that all that was standing in front of her and mass murderers was a thin pane of glass. The two-way mirror hadn't seemed enough and more than once she'd wished for a gun. Kelly really hadn't been terrifying, but the look of anger in Trask's eyes was enough to make her feel a prickle of fear.

"They did assign the tough interrogators," said Moira, "but we shouldn't take too much pleasure in all of this."

"Worthington was really fun though," Levine said, "Remember when he started to cry?"

A smirk turned up her lips.

"Alright, that was fun," said Moira, "But it was dampened after what we saw he was making in those factories. Do you remember that collar design?"

She repressed a shudder. As always it had been far too easy to picture Rahne trapped in one of those contraptions. As time had dragged on it hadn't just been Rahne though. She'd seen Kayla and Charles as well. There were too many people in her life that she was fighting for to protect now.

"People with too much money make dangerous toys," Levine said.

His voice was dark and Moira made note of it.

"God," she said, shaking her head, "I just don't understand. How could they think they could get away with this?"

Levine shrugged.

"They're powerful; they think they can do anything," he said.

As they turned into the hall that led to McCone's office Moira smiled.

"You've really changed," she said, "If someone had told me I'd hear you say that about three years ago I wouldn't have believed them.

"Hey, it's not like everything we've been doing for the past years goes over my head," he said, "I've learned to be just as cynical as you."

Moira laughed.

"Okay, maybe not just as cynical as you," he corrected himself, "But I've certainly gotten better. I think I might finally be agent material."

"We've been agents for years."

"Because of you," Levine said, "Don't think that I've forgotten everything you've done for me, because I won't."

They reached McCone's office and Moira smiled.

"No need," she said.

He returned the smile and opened the door. McCone was seated at his desk, looking vaguely troubled. He gestured to them and they took a seat.

"So, you believe that you've located the remaining three facilities?" asked McCone.

"Yes," Moira said, "We have the latitude and longitude. All we need to do is assemble a team now. We were wondering if there was any word on that?"

McCone shook his head.

"We're...considering options."

Moira tilted her head, but pressed on nonetheless.

"We were wondering if there was going to be a statement to the UN in conjunction to the one proclaiming Genosha or if this was going to be more covert."

"Covert," repeated McCone.

The way he said the word made her uncomfortable. Levine quickly jumped in.

"Yes, you send agents to talk to their people hush-hush, that sort of thing," he said, "Now that we have the Genoshan embassy in Washington we might be able to coordinate something with their people."

McCone gave him a hard look. Levine frowned and looked at Moira out of the corner of his eye. They weren't used to this much disapproval in such a small time.

"So you're suggesting that we help coordinate attacks in Europe and Russia," said McCone.

"Russia is going to be difficult, no doubt about it," Moira said, "We've already figured out that they won't want our help. But they should be alerted and told. They might not care too much, but it will embarrass them that we're more equal than them, at least in regard to mutants, if we make a public announcement about the situation. If everyone else is doing it then they will as well. They'd hunt down the facility out of the sheer embarrassment."

She smiled to herself. Levine and her were quite proud on coming up with that particular plan. It would work, she knew that. Her smile faded when she saw that McCone's frown had deepened. Something was wrong, something she couldn't quite place her finger on. Moira had to resist the urge to glance back at Levine and see if he saw it too.

"So you're saying we should tell the Russian government that they have super-powered residents within their borders," he said, "In what way does that sound like a good idea to you Agent MacTaggert?"

Moira swallowed, digesting his words.

"So you're saying that we should leave hundreds, possibly thousands, of people languishing in captivity," Moira said, "on the off chance that the Soviets might use them for military purposes?"

"You say 'might' like there's any doubt about it," McCone said coldly, "We're already in an arms race with them. I don't want to get into a mutant race too."

"But Genosha's our ally," said Moira.

"Only if we keep doing what they want," said McCone, "We got some information from them about Russian operations a few years ago, but beyond that we've got nothing. Their information is outdated and we're putting out more than we're getting in."

"But sir," Levine said, sitting up straighter, "you mentioned the possibility of a mutant arms race. That means that Genosha would be a prime ally as the largest known concentration of mutants in the world. And we already have them as our ally. So I don't see what harm-"

"And if they change sides?" asked McCone sharply.

Moira shook her head. There were too many concepts that were being introduced that had never crossed her mind before. The reason she had never thought about them was because she had deemed them impossible. From personal experience she knew that most of the freed mutants would high tail it to Genosha the minute they were released with or without the government's permission.

The government could certainly try to stop them, but she doubted it would be effective. If Genosha heard about the issue then they would probably send covert teams. She knew that they had a few teleporters on the island. Moira had even met a few of them, and she knew that Charles and Magnus would be too smart to start an international situation. They would go black-op rather than start World War III.

The idea of them changing sides was just as ridiculous, if not more so. McCone was right in a way. The exchange of services had been somewhat equal, at least in the beginning. Now they owed them just as much as they hated htier former rulers.

"Genosha was under Soviet control," said Moira, "For the most part they've kept the preexisting government intact, at least the structure. Now it's in the hands of the people they were oppressing. Their government is more like England's, more democratic. They wouldn't deal with communists."

McCone's expression stayed hard.

"I've talked to several of my superiors recently," he said, "They believe that the United States had done enough to uphold their part of the bargain. The MRD is finished and there are more important things to move onto."

She sat straight up, turning her head fully to let Levine see her disbelief. He looked just as shocked as she knew she did.

"Something wrong Agent MacTaggert?"

If this were any other situation she would have been warned by the tone in his voice to back down. Instead she felt words well up from deep within her.

"Yes, sir, there is," she said, turning her attention back to McCone, "This was not the assignment that was designated for us."

"You'll find that it was," McCone said.

"And, as for your assertion that the Mutant Response Division is finished," she said, ignoring him, "I think we might have come halfway. Might."

"Your opinion is of no concern MacTaggert."

"I second her," Levine said, "We've still got countless other leads. We got a few senators, that's true, and Worthington and Trask, but there are more out there. This is big. There's much more to investigate sir."

"Your input was not asked for either Levine," snapped McCone.

"Even if you only want to concentrate on American interests, there are still countless people we haven't investigated," Moira said, "We haven't looked into Reverend Craig or Colonel Stryker-"

"William Stryker is a patriot who's been fighting for this country since you were wearing your hair in pigtails," snapped McCone, "You will both be reassigned to another case in due time, once these trials are over."

Putting her hands by her side Moira gripped the edge of her chair. Her knuckles were white under the pressure but she wasn't letting go. Now it made sense. McCone and Stryker were friends. She'd known that from the beginning. Somehow she had believed that he would still do his job in spite of it. He had sworn an oath after all. Now that things were getting serious Moira wondered who else he was protecting.

Her head felt dizzy and she felt a slight sense of disorientation. Things had changed so suddenly that she felt like she had whiplash. There had been no warning that things were going to go this way. It had been decided without discussion, without facts. She'd be damned if she'd let it stay that way.

"You think that's it?" Moira said, "You think that this is over? It's not over."

"It is now," McCone said firmly.

She laughed, hearing her voice as though it were far away. Moira knew that she was irreparably damaging her career. Levine's pleading looks were enough to tell her that even if she was feeling things too strongly. She couldn't let it go though. She had fought too long, too hard, given too much of herself to do so.

"No it isn't," she said, "Do you have any idea what you're saying? You're condoning the torture and experimentation of thousands across the globe. MacArthur was right; our agencies can be really spineless at times."

McCone got to his feet and Moira did too. Levine did so more slowly, his eyes flickering anxiously between them.

"When Stryker said you should be thrown back in the typing pool where we fished you out," McCone said, his voice sharp, "I thought he was being over-hasty. Now I see that maybe it wasn't enough."

She tilted her head up defiantly at his glare, recalling a conversation she'd had with Levine months before.

"Moira, I don't mean to sound insensitive," Levine said, "But…when this is over, when they finally let us go to Pennsylvania, do you think we'll still be on this case?"

"We should be," Moira said, "This isn't just happening here. This is an international problem. People are being imprisoned. If the CIA won't take this any further than the States, won't announce it to the international community when it has the proof it needs then I'm not sure I want to be in it."

She had thrown herself into the cause of finding the MRD, knowing it was the only justification she could have for putting Rahne through thier seperation. It was one that she had struggled against, trying to make it work. It had been the reasons she had made that sacrifice.

Moira took a deep breath.

"There's no need for that sir," she said, "Because as of sixteen hundred hours I'm turning in my resignation."

McCone stared at her. Next to her Levine's mouth opened slightly.

"You can't mean that Moira," he said.

"I'm sorry, but I do," said Moira, "My parting with the agency is...regretable, but my behavior should not reflect on my partner."

"Moira-" Levine started.

She shook her head.

"I can't stay with an agency that turns its back when it's convenient," Moira said, "Director McCone, Levine, goodbye."

She turned around and opened the door. Moira wasn't prone to fits; she didn't slam it behind her. It didn't matter. She didn't expect anyone to follow her. McCone wouldn't call her back after what she did, and Levine wouldn't be allowed to leave. It was better that way. She would rather be alone for her last walk from the Director's office.

Moira walked down the hall, her back straight and her head tilted back to keep back tears. There were so many reasons to cry. Disappointment was one, frustration was another. This had been her job, her dream, her ambition for so many years. No matter what had happened she had invested so much of her life into it. Now she had walked away from it.

Tears built into her eyes but she forced them back. Moira wasn't weak. She had made her decision, probably the moment she had taken in Rahne all those years ago. She had decided to stand up for those who were downtrodden. In the end, it didn't matter if she was with the CIA or not. She was going to continue to do what she knew best.

So, with her head held high she walked out of the hall, never once looking back.