A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. Work travel took off and ended up in South Carolina, then Oklahoma, and finally South Dakota past few weeks. I've never been to South Carolina or South Dakota before so it was cool to check off some states. If you ever get a chance, the Oahe Dam in SD is pretty amazing close up. Traveling did get tiring. Last leg home my mind was probably gone and I left my kindle on the plane. No luck so far getting it back. Lesson learned. Front seat pocket, do not use. Hope you all are enjoying the end of summer. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 26: In Silent Seas We Drown

2:45 p.m.

Somewhere outside Carbondale, PA

Between heaven and hell some believe is a place called purgatory. Growing up a Midwestern Protestant, Flint only had a passing familiarity with the concept. The whole idea of purgatory was difficult for Flint to grasp, and he strained to reconcile it against the certainty with which he had been raised. There was no wishy-washy middle ground for Protestants; either you were in or you were out. It was sola fide, by faith alone. It was by faith alone that one would enter the afterlife. Purgatory only served to disconnect one from God as one suffered in torment. Anything that would separate one from God couldn't be. Therefore, there was no purgatory.

Lady Jaye, on the other hand, had a different background. Among her father's many faults, as catalogued by her grandmother, was the fact that he was a "papist." Flint couldn't recall ever hearing the word mentioned outside of his studies at Oxford. No one actually spoke the word out loud anymore. Leave it to Grandmother Hart to give voice to the Catholic prejudices of the Reformation. Although Lady Jaye had strayed from her faith over the years, old habits died hard. When a mission went dicey, he caught her praying to a saint or two for intercession. And then there was that one mission. That was when they really got deep.

They had been tasked with locating a Cobra defector in the Philippines and escorting him out. Their assignment had been doomed from the start. Rather than wait out the rainy season, the powers that be scheduled their rendezvous for August, the most active month. Sure enough, Mother Nature was waiting and socked them with a violent monsoon. With nowhere to go and the knowledge that should they be discovered, they would be disavowed, they holed up in a cave-like outcrop of rocks for a few days. Supplies were dwindling and Flint could tell Jaye was on edge. She was practically pacing out of her skin. He tried to soothe her spirits by dipping into his well of verses. That worked for a day, but then they were right back where they started, retreating further into the mountainside as the water pooled up at an alarming rate. Quarters were getting close and cozy. Fortunately it all happened after the invasion of the Pit and she wasn't worried that he was trying to get in her pants. Of course he wouldn't refuse an invitation should one have been proposed—he was who he was—still, that hadn't been his plan. His plan was for survival. They needed to stay close to survive. Since they had to be close, he wanted to know her. And he asked. He asked what she believed. Not the usual truth, justice, apple pie, and the American way stuff. He wanted to know the deep stuff of religion and philosophy, the topics that were strictly verboten on any other day. He needed to know the things she wouldn't share with anyone else. He was taking a big risk.

It paid off; she opened up. She shared with him all of her thoughts and fears growing up. She talked about purgatory and her fear, given what she had done in her line of work, and would probably do in the future, that it was her ultimate future, or worse. There were no tears in her telling. Her face was only wet from the storm. Flint could tell, however, that there were tears underneath. It was real to her as the grip of his hand around her shoulder, pulling her in tight when the cold night descended. Without telling her, he wished for a few more days of rain. Mother Nature didn't comply and soon relented. They never found the defector. All that remained was his washed-out camp a few yards away from their hideout. They laughed the whole experience off because that's what you had to do, yet his thoughts often lingered on it. It gave him pause. He wondered if she truly believed. It didn't make a difference to him if she did, he just wondered was all. It was all part and parcel of knowing her, every aspect of her. Did she think prayers and saints could ever help? Could it ever help a man like him? He could use some outside help. Certainty could be so, well, certain.

Like now, as he wiped the dust away from his face, he'd like to have a trusty saint to intercede on his behalf because if he didn't believe in purgatory before, he was starting to believe in it now. Blinking against the stinging smoke, Flint could see where it made sense. All around him the inferno raged. He should be dead. Loosening his limbs against the crushing weight of fallen rock, he did have the one thing Cobra couldn't take away, hope. As bad as it looked, he had to believe he would get free. He had hope things would be made right. If prayers were being said, then he wanted them to be said tonight, for all of them. Purgatory wasn't a literal place so much as it was figurative. There was a need that even in the darkest hour, you could be redeemed. That hope could live on. That you could endure. This wasn't the end; it was merely a way station. He would get his men out and he would find Jaye. He would walk through the very fires of hell and sacrifice his soul to save them all. Maybe that's what purgatory was—in those times of despair, praying that hope would see you through. That was what he could believe.

And for hope Flint would pray. He twisted his body back and forth in an effort to free himself. His left leg was pinned by something and he could barely feel it. Concentrating, beads of perspiration popped up on his forehead. There, he could do it, wiggle his toes. That small movement meant everything at the moment and he felt a sense of relief. One prayer answered. Gritting his teeth together, he bent his elbows and put one arm in front of the other, crawling along the ground as if he was navigating an obstacle course under Beachhead's monotone cadence. Another boom rang in his ears and more debris rained down from the ceiling. The cadence remained in his head, simple and purposeful, one arm in front of the other. He wasn't even actively thinking about it anymore. It was pure instinct now. Given the right circumstances, his body would simply react, allowing the training forged by mountains and prairie, winds and rains to take over. Nothing was left to chance; everything was planned. Even here, a few miles underground, the all too close blasts couldn't shake his resolve. He was in the zone.

At last he was free and stood up, shaking out his cramped legs. Crackling orange glowed from some of the crevices and a smoky haze had settled about midway between the floor and the ceiling, like the London fog settling over the Channel. "Roll Call," he cried out.

"Here!" Mainframe stumbled into view, rubbing his eyes.

"Wreck!" Shipwreck's voice echoed among the stones, cut-off by the sound of another explosion. The thundering crashes were becoming more distant as the fire fanned out into the mine.

Flint turned, eyes peering into the gloom. "Again!"

"Wreck!" The man shouted his name a few more times until Flint pinpointed the sound. He rushed toward it. Shipwreck was crouched down next to Miller by the entrance to the now-demolished Cobra Command Center. Miller clutched his left arm against his body. They were all pale in the shadows yet Flint couldn't help but think that Miller was the palest one of all. He kneeled down next to him, placing a hand on Miller's shoulder. Miller flinched and recoiled away, his lips pressed together. Flint quickly released his grip, rubbing wet, sticky fingers together.

"What happened?"

Miller beamed, "I was shot."

"First time?"

"Yep."

Flint dipped his head in Miller's direction. "Welcome to the club." His words were followed by anther thunderous roar, shaking the ground and tripping up the men. Flint looked up at Mainframe. "We've got to get out of here." Flint didn't like Miller's look. It was in the agent's eyes; Miller was in pain, a lot of pain. He was putting up a good front, but it would only last as long as the adrenalin. Flint had to get him up and moving while he still was riding that euphoria. Once it subsided, Miller wouldn't have long. Flint didn't even want to think of what would happen if he didn't get Miller topside. One thing was for sure, Flint needed Miller's wound stabilized. With a glance to Shipwreck, the two men worked in tandem to tightly bind the agent's arm with a sleeve torn from Flint's shirt. At least it would buy them some time. Flint turned his attention back to Mainframe, "Cobra's computer?"

Mainframe tapped the cargo pocket on his left leg. "Hard drive right here."

"Excellent." Flint stood up, rolling his shoulders back, "Now to get Jaye and get out of here. What you got?"

"Um, about that." Mainframe held out the glasses, both lenses shattered.

"That's not good." Shipwreck stated the obvious.

Flint's shoulders slumped. It wasn't good at all. As the team had learned, without Mainframe's glasses, they were just bumbling around in the dark with no rhyme or reason. Given what happened last time, Flint wasn't exactly looking forward to repeating that experience. Should they hit another bad air pocket? And Jaye? Without guidance, where did he even begin his search? It could take forever. He squared his jaw. If it took forever to find her, then he'd better get started. He'd roam these caverns for a million years before he gave up. First, he needed to get the rest of the team on top. Then he would find her. With the decision made, it was just a matter of execution. "Ok, we're going to find a path that will get us to the surface. Mainframe?"

"Yes Sir?"

"Can you still hear J.T.?"

Up until that point, something had been bothering Mainframe. There was something off, missing. He chalked it up to the ensuing chaos created by the first explosion. Now he knew what it was, the faint buzzing of J.T.'s friendly chatter was gone. Mainframe poked at his ear, searching for the miniscule earpiece. Nothing. His stomach dropped; he was really disappointing Flint on the mission. Panic set in and his hands expanded the scope of his search, patting around his shoulder and shirt.

"Calm down geek boy." Shipwreck had pushed himself up and was standing next to Mainframe. "Easy there." Reaching over, Shipwreck plucked the tiny, plastic earpiece out of Mainframe's hair. "This what you're looking for?"

"Yes!" Mainframe's voice tumbled out in a relieved sigh. He held it up to his ear.

After an audible click, J.T. bellowed out, "What the heck on earth and tarnation is going on down there? Y'all alive?"

"J.T., there was a firefight and Cobra triggered a seam run." Miller motioned for Mainframe to bring his microphone closer. He coughed, feeling the strain of muscles pulling across his chest. Flint wasn't the only one to recognize that Miller was in a tight spot. Miller knew it too. The glory of the moment was replaced by the stark realization that he was losing blood, fast. Flint had done a respectable job with his field dressing; Miller could barely move his shoulder. But it was like sticking a band-aid on a leaky sewer pipe. It would only hold so long. Eventually, it wouldn't matter. He tried to shake it off. "You need to have Scranton call in the fire department and mine safety. I think it's containable, but we don't want to be dealing with a 200 year burn. If they get here fast enough, they might be able to use barriers and snuff it out."

"Roger that. Emergency call is out now. FBI is here with me." The team could hear the muffled voices of J.T.'s companions. "I think I can work around the heat to get y'all out. Sending new coordinates to Mainframe."

"J.T., the glasses broke."

"Oh."

"J.T., Flint here. Can you talk them out?"

"I reckon. Even if they can't see I . . ."

"Wait a second." Shipwreck cut in. "What do you mean talk them out. What's this "them" part." Shipwreck cocked his fingers to make air quotes as he said "them."

"I still need to find Jaye."

"You mean we."

"Ship . . ."

"I can help you."

The men turned and watched as the flickers of light from the mine's emergency lighting system and the smoky shadows from the fire swirled and merged into the solid figure of a man. As he approached the group he looked as if he had sprung forth from the mines much the way that Athena had sprung forth from the mind of Zeus. The dust and soot clung to the man's craggy face, creating a black and white picture come to life. Bits of silver hair glistened in the faint light, the remainder caked with dirt and coal. The man wasn't smiling. His face was a stern line set in stone. "My name's Duncan McDougall. I know where they took your friend. The main passage is blocked but there are a few other routes we can take." He glanced around as another boom mixed up the scene. "We have to move fast. Old Betsy's looking to claim a few souls."

The hairs on the back of Flint's neck stood up at attention. Old Betsy? As his eyes took in the old man standing before him, they lingered upon the patch embroidered on the chest pocket of the man's chambray shirt. Covered by dirt, Flint still recognized the outline of the Cobra. He took a mental step back.

Flint's reaction did not go unnoticed by Duncan. "I know what you see. I'm not proud, but I've done what needed to be done. If you want to see your friend, I suggest you come with me now."

Flint nodded his head. "Understood." He turned toward Shipwreck, motioning toward the others. "Get them out."

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Shipwreck shook his head. "No way there Boss Man. We're going with you. I don't know about this guy. We stick together."

"You will follow my orders." Grabbing an arm, Flint pulled Shipwreck aside, lowering his voice to a point where the sailor had to strain his ears to hear. "Listen, Miller's in bad shape. If he doesn't get help soon, he may not be walking out of here. If this old miner can get me to Jaye, I don't care whose side he's on. I need you to make sure Miller and Mainframe get out of here. Miller needs a medic and Mainframe needs to access that data or what we saw is going to keep happening to a lot of innocent people. Got it?"

Shipwreck gulped once. He could spot robo-Flint a mile away and here he was inches from his face. "Absolutely." With a sharp salute, Shipwreck turned to the others. "Shipwreck express is on the move. Let's get out of this place." Shipwreck propped up Miller and got an arm underneath the agent's shoulders, allowing the injured man to lean against him. It was only when he got this close that Shipwreck could see how right Flint was. Miller could barely walk. No way could Shipwreck support Miller and go on a Jaye hunt. Curse his luck if Flint wasn't right, as usual. "Lead the way geek boy. Take us to your leader."

Mainframe paused by Flint, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Find her."

Lady Jaye braced for the inevitable landslide that her actions caused. With each rock she removed, it seemed like another ten scurried to take its place. It was no use. She wasn't digging herself out anytime soon. Sinking to the ground, she was trapped.

Being trapped wasn't always a bad thing. She rather looked forward to the next time she might find herself "trapped" with Flint. There might be a few things they could do to pass away the time. It certainly wouldn't be like that time when she was trapped in that tiny, sweltering bathroom on the Aeroflot plane with Flint and Beachhead just on the other side of the door. They told her she had been the one to lock herself in. She suspected otherwise, and soon would have her revenge. It had been a long time coming, but these things took time. As much as she had desired swift retaliation, she found that the line to even get a number to get in line to take revenge against Flint and Beachhead was pretty long. Rather than fight it, she consolidated forces and Operation Pea Pod was in full effect. Once Rip Cord returned from visiting his cousin in Ohio, it was on. The question was, would she now let Flint in on it? She chuckled. And deny the boys their fun? Of course not. Someday though, maybe she would.

Someday. Normally thoughts of someday would be enough to twist a knot in her stomach and send her brain spinning into overdrive. Hugging her knees to her chest, she wasn't so worried about someday anymore. In a way, someday had come. She touched a finger to her lips, closing her eyes, thinking about another's touch. Trembling, it was more than the damp stones pushed up against her back that sent shivers down her spine. She could feel the wisps of his breath against the skin behind her ear. The instant when his lips hovered over hers, teasing. That first moment, when it was a real kiss, played out in her mind. The need for him had been so tangible that she could reach out and grab it in her hand. She truly didn't realize how much she had wanted him until he was there, standing in the bedroom before her. A part of her was complete. And now look at where she was.

Taking stock of her little prison, even this, stuck between a rock and a lot of other rocks, was ok. It didn't feel as empty as it should. For her whole adult life there was always a part of her that felt empty. She was by no means a depressed person, quite the contrary. Still, it didn't mean that she didn't have her moments. Some nights hurt more than others. Her parents, Jimmy, even after all this time she felt their loss intuitively. No one on the team knew; it was best to keep these kinds of things to yourself. As it was, Beachhead harbored his doubts on whether she should be there. She would be strong and sure. She would play her part well. It was lonely though, being so strong and sure. It was a divider between her and everyone she met. No one could see through it. They could only see the strong outline she projected. The delicate nuances and intricacies of who she really was remained concealed from view. He saw them though. Flint saw through to who she was, and he liked it. Even if she never saw him again, she had that. She had someone; she had Flint. With memories of him, it didn't feel as lonely. No matter what happened now, she had that. It would always be. Even if her fate was to die in this stone box, she had that.

And knowledge was power over the darkness no matter how much it crept up on her. She could feel it, that tickling in her throat and the haze seeping into her peripheral vision. Looking down, she pressed her arm against her side, suppressing the beginning tremors. Destro said there would be more time. She was banking on more time. She clutched the pouch to her chest. If she went down, Flint would find it. He'd know what to do. Flint wouldn't let her down. He'd complete the mission. There wasn't anything else left to do but wait. She closed her eyes, half to conserve her strength, half to slip away and meet the dark on her terms.