This is a glimpse into the recent past; it depicts a dinner date between Sheldon Webster and Atlas Leader Zoë Lawrence. Webster is the former leader of a Cerberus cell – renamed Atlas after the conclusion of the Reaper War – in the city of New Cousteau, on the planet Trident, in the Hoplos System, one-of-four star systems within Hades Nexus. Ever since their second mid-October 2188 meeting in the Systems Alliance Vancouver Base Hospital – during Lawrence's recovery from the knife wounds she had suffered at the hand of former Cerberus assassin Frédéric Klein – Webster had been seeing her once or twice a month, usually over dinner in a nice restaurant. This particular outing marked the beginning of an entirely new journey for Zoë Lawrence.


A Dinner Date

River Crossing Restaurant, Vancouver B.C., Earth – 28 Dec 2189

Sheldon Webster was rather anxiously waiting for a woman to meet him in this bar; taking a sip from his wine glass, he glanced at the readout of his omnitool's chrono for the third time since arriving from his small apartment in North Vancouver. She wasn't late – yet – but their reservation was for 2045, and it was already 2025. Webster had always tried to be punctual; his view on being punctual was that arriving a few minutes early was preferable to arriving right on time. I'm worrying over nothing, he thought. She's never been late as long as I've known her.

Sheldon took another sip of wine, returned the long-stemmed black-crystal goblet to the polished wood counter before him and thought back to the series of events that had brought him to this city, beginning of autumn during the previous year. He had been one of the fortunate few. Due to an X3M break-down, he had been standing on the side of a major thoroughfare in New Cousteau when the LEAP hit squads made their move. In addition to himself, only eight other members of Atlas – out of a total membership of 78 people in the colony's capitol city – had escaped the LEAP directed purge of Atlas' members… a purge that took place between local midnight and sunrise, and not just in New Cousteau. The massacre took place galaxy-wide on Christmas day, 2187. The New Cousteau branch members that had died – 69 dedicated men and women – were not all of the casualties; in a city such as New Cousteau, most of the murdered agents had families… husbands, wives, young children, none of whom were soldiers. It was guilt by association… a wholesale slaughter. A total of 174 other people – men, women, and children – had been butchered by the bastards. Additionally, many aliens – people that had lived alongside the colony's human population – had also died, as collateral damage was of no concern to LEAP.

Webster believed he had failed his team – his people. After traveling to Earth in order to attend the combined funerals and memorial services of Angelique Warren and Marisa Frost – brutally murdered by Marco Tilzer the last week of December, just two years ago – he had returned to the colony the following day, there to attempt to move on with his life… move on as the leader of the decimated membership of New Cousteau's Atlas cell. He had become increasingly unhappy with his position, enough so that he gradually began ceding more and more authority to his second, 38-year-old Cassie Meyers, a native of the colony.

Meyers was only still alive because she'd been visiting a sick relative 43 kilometers outside the city on Christmas eve and Christmas day, thus preventing the LEAP agent assigned to her termination from doing his job. Cassie was more than familiar with Webster's job, as she had been an administrative aide to Sheldon's second-in-command – also killed during the Christmas day massacre – at Atlas' main office in the colonial capitol. When Webster resigned in June, Cassie had stepped in and assumed control of day-to-day operations of the local Atlas cell – what was left of it, anyway – including recruitment to rebuild membership.

One of the last things he had done before leaving Trident permanently behind was to visit the grave of his wife, Yvonne. Like many colony families, her parents had been unable to afford the in-vitro gene therapy that might have prevented her from developing ovarian cancer. The type of cancer she contracted had been particularly virulent; despite the best of care, she had succumbed to its effects within fourteen months of diagnosis. Sheldon finished his wine as he remembered being emotionally shattered by Yvonne's death.

He had knelt at her headstone in a steady drizzle, attempting to keep a candle lit as he spoke to her. He had explained he was leaving the colony but would come back to visit as often as time and finances allowed. He had gripped the top of the headstone as he wept into the jacket sleeve on his upper arm, begging her to forgive him for his inability to save her life… forgive him for now leaving New Cousteau for Earth. He had received no answers. There was only the cold rain.

Webster had managed to obtain a recommendation from the owner of the Cision Motors franchise in the colony, so had permanently relocated to Earth in mid-October 2188, there to move into a small apartment in a rebuilt section of Vancouver, BC. Taking a job as the 2nd-shift service manager for the mid-sized aircar repair and refurbishment facility – it being much less expensive to cannibalize wrecked vehicles for parts and rebuild moderately damaged X3M's for sale than to build new ones from scratch – his hard work and organizational skills had gained the attention of the owners, who promoted him and moved him to the day shift; by mid-December, he had worked his way up to the position of general manager.

After the death of Yvonne, Sheldon Webster had withdrawn to the point of being uncomfortable around women in any but a strictly business setting. It was Zoë Lawrence that had first asked him to accompany her to a restaurant for dinner, the first week of December. He had expressed reluctance at accompanying her, saying he had still not fully come to terms with his wife's untimely death. Zoë had insisted, finally wearing him down through sheer persistence.

That first evening at dinner, he had opened up just a little about Yvonne's death, telling Zoë that, even though he knew her death was coming, losing her had stripped virtually all of the joy from his life. Webster thought back on their first dinner, recalling how Zoë had simply… listened, all while studying him intently. She asked an occasional question for clarification, but had, for the most part, simply allowed him to talk about his previous life.

Over time, Sheldon had gradually come to be smitten with Zoë's intelligence and her self-assured confidence; that she was stunningly attractive was simply icing on the cake. Looking back on the previous fourteen months of his life on Earth, Sheldon believed his fascination with the Atlas leader had begun the first time he had met with her privately – before he had returned to New Cousteau – after attending the memorial service for Angel and Marisa.

For her part, Zoë was intrigued by Webster's uncertainty in dealing one-on-one with her on a personal level; it didn't hurt the man's chances that she had never been intimate with anyone during her many years as a Cerberus operative and assassin. Having left the identity of Maya Brooks, Rasa and all her other aliases behind in an effort to turn her life around, Zoë had grown increasingly tired of always being alone, so had begun the slow process of opening her own heart to companionship – maybe even to the possibilities of romance. Their first dinner together the previous year had been an enlightening experience – for both of them; subsequent 'dates' had further opened their eyes, especially Zoë's, to the possibilities of shared lives together. That they had been seeing each other since Webster's move to Vancouver… fourteen months of occasional – one, maybe two times a month – dinners together, without being intimate afterwards was an indication of just how unsure each of them, Zoë in particular, was about where their relationship should be going.


His glass was empty, and the time was now 2042. He nearly motioned to the bartender for a refill when movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning to look towards the entrance, he saw her standing just inside the door. Zoë was wearing a slate grey, hooded raincoat that covered her from head to mid-calf; a pair of black leather pumps with moderate heels graced her feet. The dark-skinned woman with the ivory-colored tribal design tattoo on the left side of her face scanned the few people sitting at the tables scattered about the room before spotting him at the far end of the bar.

Sheldon watched in stunned appreciation as she began walking towards him, her movements graceful… precise… as if she was preparing to pounce on some unwary prey. Grinning in spite of himself, he thought, Given her background, that possibility is certainly not too unlikely.

Zoë's eyes reflected her smile as she sidled up beside him, whispering, "Sorry I'm late, Don. Have you been waiting long?" She removed her raincoat, shook some of the moisture from the fabric and folded it over one arm as the smile increased to show just a hint of upper teeth. Webster's breath caught in his throat at the sight of this vision in silver lace; her elegant dress had a deep V-neck, 3/4 length sleeves and a mid-thigh hem that displayed her gorgeous legs to their best advantage.

Sheldon's voice caught in his throat as he appreciatively looked her up and down. "Not at all, Zoë… just finished a glass of wine." Standing to face her, he offered his arm while quietly observing, "You look absolutely stunning. You ready to eat?"

Taking the proffered arm, she pressed her body close to his as he led her out of the bar. "It's been a long day… an extremely long, very tiring day," she replied. "I'm more than ready to relax for a bit and have a quiet dinner with you."

Once in the restaurant lobby, Sheldon spoke with the hostess, who picked up a pair of datapads; leading the pair into the dining area, she paused at a secluded table towards the rear of the large room. "Does this table meet with your approval?"

Webster noted that the square table had semi-circular leaves on hinges along each side. The hostess made as if to raise the two drop-leaves where they would be sitting, but Sheldon asked her to leave them down. She questioned him to be sure, to which her replied, "It's perfect… thank you."

As he pulled a chair out at one side for Zoë to sit, the hostess replied, "Your server will be right with you."

There was a coat rack beside the table, which Zoë utilized to hang her raincoat before taking the chair Sheldon held for her. Upon taking his own chair across from her, he felt his pulse quicken at the momentary glimpse of just how much of Zoë's thighs were now exposed below the hem of her short dress. Deciding against commenting, at least for now, he grasped her hand for a moment; this caused her grin to return as she fixed him with a smoldering gaze. The momentary flash of teeth contrasting against red lips and dark skin made him feel as if the room's ambient temperature had suddenly risen several degrees; it was a real struggle for him to maintain his composure as he said, "I'm really happy you could join me tonight, Zoë. You said you had a long day. Anything you'd care to share, or is speaking about work still something you care to avoid?"

The smile faded as Zoë huffed slightly before replying, "It's not that speaking about work is not permitted, Sheldon, particularly to you." Pausing briefly, the gaze from her liquid ebony eyes intensified as she resumed speaking. "I just want to forget about what I've been compelled to do… all the things I've done, if only for a couple of hours. You lived that life until just after Christmas two years ago, so you must understand." The midnight eyes searched Webster's for sympathy as he looked down for a moment. "I'd really rather hear about your day. Whatever you had to do today must have made more of a difference to people than anything I accomplished."

With a small smile, Webster replied, "Of course, Zoë… forgive me. And nothing I do for Cision seems all that important. It's just a job – permits me to live in a modest apartment… and take you out for occasional dinners." He directed his attention to the menu before him while saying, "Let's order our meals. I'm told the Raincoast Greens are very good, and their Butternut Squash Ravioli with Prawns is quite delicious. Would you like me to order a bottle of wine?"

Lawrence studied the menu on the datapad for a few minutes; just before their server arrived, she said, "You order for me, Sheldon… you know my tastes well enough; there's so many delicious meals from which to choose, I would rather you make the selections for me."

Webster smiled as their server stood in front of them expectantly. Looking at the stunning person seated across from him, he said, "We'll each have an order of the Raincoast Greens, followed by the Butternut Squash with Prawns, and I'm going to trust that you will choose the proper wine to go along with it all."

The young man nodded as he picked up the pair of datapads and left to get their dinners started. Sheldon looked at Zoë for a moment before quietly asking, "I've never had dinner with you that you weren't armed somehow, but I seriously doubt there's any place within that tiny little dress to hide anything bigger than a straight dagger; it's actually not doing that great a job of hiding you." He was blushing furiously before the words had finished leaving his mouth.

The chuckle he received set his heart racing, just as it always did. "Weapon's in a special pocket in my raincoat, which is why I didn't check it at the door." Zoë had been looking for a way to goad the man into paying a bit more attention to her… physical… attributes; his observation about her dress barely hiding her confirmed she had succeeded. Placing her right hand on the bit of exposed skin displayed by the deep V-neck while slowly rubbing the top of a thigh with her left, she inquired innocently, "Do you think I might be just a bit… overexposed?"

At that remark, it was a struggle for Webster to continue to think coherently, much less string more than two or three words together. He leaned towards her and whispered, "Zoë Lawrence, you are absolutely gorgeous. That dress covers the essentials… but just barely." He watched the movement of her left arm, and idly wondered if her medium-ebony colored skin was as smooth… as soft… as it appeared to be. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of their salads and a bottle of a fine Sauvignon Blanc. Turning his attention to their waitperson, he nodded in acceptance of the man's choice of wine while attempting to regain his composure.

Zoë grinned at his discomfiture as the waiter poured a measure of wine into each of their glasses. Turning her attention to the Raincoast Greens, she speared a piece each of cucumber and tomato, popped them in her mouth and chewed for a moment. Taking a sip of wine, she turned her eyes back to Sheldon, who was busily attempting to hide his embarrassment by devoting most of his attention to his own plate. Speaking in a near whisper, she sighed, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Don, but…" here she took another sip of wine before continuing, "… we've been going out together for over a year, so I've been wondering…" Damn! It's really difficult to get the words out! "… Sheldon, I really need to know something. What are your intentions?"

This got his full attention. "What do you mean, Zoë? Intentions?"

"Intentions… for us. This will probably sound silly coming from me, but dammit! I have never been with a man, Sheldon… physically, at least. In a former life, I couldn't afford to trust that an intimate encounter wouldn't end with my throat sliced open or a straight-blade shoved into my heart." She took another bite of salad, then followed it with a sip of wine as she waited for him to respond. "Needless to say, I felt terribly lonely at times."

Sheldon coughed to cover his embarrassed confusion concerning the enchanting woman sitting across from him. Finally finding his courage, along with his voice, he replied, "I'd be lying if I told you I'd never considered the possibility of having a more… intimate… relationship with you, Zoë. Me… spending a night with you wrapped in my arms? My only fear is that I would somehow be a disappointment to you."

The skin at the corners of her eyes wrinkled ever so slightly as her lips parted in a genuine smile. "Oh, I seriously doubt you could ever disappoint me, Don." She leaned towards him, then surprised him by grasping his hand. "I have no prior experience by which to judge." After several moments, she released his hand and resumed eating her salad.

Sheldon felt as if her touch had set his hand on fire. After downing the wine in his own glass, he refilled it, then tipped the remainder into Zoë's glass. His thoughts were tumultuous as their waiter appeared with their main course of butternut squash with prawns; they each pushed their salad bowls to the side to allow room for the platters containing their meals. As the waiter turned to leave, Sheldon asked him to bring another bottle of wine.

Sheldon's memory of the rest of their dinner was sketchy, at best. When they were done and preparing to leave the restaurant for the short walk to their respective aircars, he helped her put on her hooded jacket; after shrugging her shoulders to settle the sleeves, she turned and placed her hands on either side of his waist. "Thanks for dinner, Don. I really enjoyed myself." She pulled slightly, bringing him closer; tipping her head back, she placed her lips on his and kissed him, rather thoroughly. Drawing back after several pleasurable moments, she whispered, her voice husky. "Follow me back to my place?"

Webster struggled to speak. Her kiss seemed to have stolen all his reason, even as it ignited a fire in his loins. Finally regaining his courage, he said the first words that came to mind. "Lead the way, Zoë."