The ISA ballroom was, in fact, a lot like other ballrooms Kim had seen throughout her life.

Oh, the concrete walls hardly belonged in a palace, but there was a dance floor in the middle of the room and a bar against the far wall and three chandeliers swinging from the ceiling. Music played from speakers positioned throughout the room. A neutral-looking man handed her a neutral-looking plate loaded with neutral-looking food and directed her to a cluster of tables beside the dance floor.

She glanced around. She didn't see Shane. Perhaps he hadn't come after all? Perhaps that was why he had thrown her off of his plane? Had he just wanted her securely out of the way while he went on some other mission entirely? Had he circled directly back to Salem and announced to Kayla that it was time for them to get married in the absence of the greatest complication to their relationship? It wouldn't be the first time Shane had completely planned a wedding for an unexpecting but delighted bride.

She did see one person she knew. As her terrible day in the middle of a terrible week in the middle of a terrible month in the middle of a terrible year would have it, that person was Gabrielle. And there were empty seats at Gabrielle's table.

Kim drew herself up to her full height (for all the good it did). Since she had seen Gabrielle before Gabrielle had seen her, she would greet Gabrielle right away. This was her best, her only, chance to put Gabrielle on the defensive. She certainly didn't want to speak to Gabrielle for the first time when she was a student in Gabrielle's lecture on international law and the history of spies.

She dropped her plate on the table with more force than was strictly necessary. Gabrielle and her companion looked up sharply.

"Hi, Gabrielle," said Kim. "May I join you?"

The brief expression of surprise that preceded the carefully composed polite mask was gratifying. "Of course. Hello, Kimberly. It's good to see you again."

So they were going to be playing nice. That worked for Kim. "And you. I saw your name in the welcome packet."

"I didn't see your name on the roster."

"That's probably because Shane and Tarrington only told me this morning that I would be joining this particular shindig."

As they spoke, the third occupant of the table reached for a pitcher of water and poured a glass for Kim. Kim smiled at her thoughtfulness and thanked her, but something inside of her churned unpleasantly as she did.

The young woman looked like Gabrielle in miniature. She had the same dark hair and eyes, narrow nose, and sharp chin. She was, it went without saying, extremely pretty.

Gabrielle did not fail to notice Kim's reaction. "Kimberly, this is my niece, Joan Pascal. Joan, this is Kimberly Brady. She was your cousin Eve's stepmother."

"It's nice to meet you," said Joan.

"And it's nice to meet you," Kim returned. "Have you and Eve spent much time together?"

Joan shook her head. "We've never met. We were supposed to meet before Eve left for Africa, but Eve's plans changed and then I had to come here, so I guess it will be a long time." She swirled the water in her goblet with annoyance. "It's amazing to find out that you have a cousin almost exactly your age that you never knew about, but then not to get to see her? She and Aunt Gabrielle and I were going to go shopping in New York."

"I'm sorry you didn't get the opportunity."

"The life of an ISA agent," Gabrielle said. "I've seen more of Joan in the past two weeks than in her entire life up until now."

"She sent the most exciting presents at Christmas, though!" said Joan with a grin. "I loved telling my friends that my aunt was a secret agent. Being here is a dream come true."

"Congratulations, then," said Kim, but her mind continued to churn. Joan looked far more like Gabrielle than Gabrielle's own daughter Eve did. The rational part of her brain reminded her that it was common enough for nieces and nephews to resemble their aunts and uncles. In her own family, Andrew and Shawn-Douglas looked more like brothers than cousins, and growing up Kim had always felt that she looked like she didn't belong no matter how many people told her that she resembled her mother.

The less rational part of her brain concocted thousands of stories, each one wilder than the last. Joan and Eve were twins; Gabrielle had given one baby to her brother to raise, and was now going to present Shane with a lovely, accomplished daughter. Joan and Eve had both been given up for adoption, but there had been some sort of a switch; Eve was a foreign agent sent to infiltrate Shane's life. Alternatively, Joan was the genetically engineered foreign agent. Stefano DiMera had been known to dabble in cloning….

Three young men joined them at their table and the conversation turned to the food (surprisingly good), the accommodations (infamous), and the schedule for tomorrow (rumors of a particularly interesting extracurricular test abounded.)

The music began to play more loudly as most of the guests finished their meals.

"Here comes Tarrington," one of the men whispered as a warning.

Tarrington greeted the others by name, but extended a hand to Kimberly in a wordless invitation to join him on the dance floor. She supposed that it would defeat the whole purpose of being there, far away from anything that might help Bo, if she didn't accept.

"Chief Tarrington," she said in fake tones she had perfected during her years in the oldest profession. "I'm honored."

He kept his face carefully neutral. She couldn't quite tell whether he was amused, or annoyed, or nothing of the sort. He was, at least, an above average dancer. She wouldn't have suspected it; he looked rather like an aging bureaucrat gone slightly to seed both physically and mentally. But she couldn't assume that, she reminded herself. It wasn't safe to assume anything about the head of the ISA. Shane had been utterly devoted to George Nickerson, who had betrayed the ISA terribly and nearly cost Shane his life. Then Ogden Vaughn had somehow managed to be even worse.

"How do you like our training center?" he asked.

"I appreciate new experiences, and I believe this is the first time I've seen this much concrete in one place," she said. "But of course, what really matters is the people and I know that the ISA has the best people."

"Delicately said, Kimberly." He twirled her across the floor.

"And perhaps, since the ISA is so focused on protecting its people, you might let me out of here early. For good behavior, let's say. So that I can get as close to Lawrence Alamain as possible and get that much closer to a cure for the virus."

"You had to try, I suppose."

"I did."

"But as Shane and the rest of your friends were able to put Alamain behind bars even without your testimony, I don't believe that you're losing much progress with him. The prison would hardly permit you to visit him every day."

"The ISA can't call in a favor with the warden?"

"Of course we could. But of all the many things Mr. Alamain is, stupid is not one of them. If he attempts to bribe an official in order to receive special treatment, we will send you in to see him as fast as we can get you over there. But if he receives what he knows to be unusual considerations without having done anything himself, he will ask himself why. We do not want him asking himself why."

Kim was reluctantly forced to accept that that made sense.

"I appreciate your eagerness to continue with the mission, however," said Tarrington. "And unlike Mr. Alamain, I need not ask myself why you changed your mind. It only matters to me that you did."

After a week of listening to Shane's queries, threats, and entreaties about her change of heart, Kim supposed it was nice that someone didn't care about her motivations. It was almost relaxing.

As if reading her thoughts, Tarrington twirled her again. "Is there a particular song you'd like them to play next? I do have some pull with the organizers."

"How about Unbelievable by EMF?" She only knew that it was the hottest dance song among young adults in several countries because one of the teenagers at the abuse clinic had told her as much. The girl had even played it for Kim. Kim had felt almost personally attacked by some of the lyrics. (You burden me with your questions/you'd have me tell no lies.) But she'd been able to shift the conversation back to the girl's own problems deftly enough.

She hadn't expected Tarrington to know what she was talking about.

But he threw back his head and laughed.

Shane couldn't tear his eyes away from Kim as she danced with Tarrington.

He oughtn't have found it so fascinating. He'd seen more than enough of Kim to last him a lifetime, and he knew that a great many men— himself included— enjoyed dancing with her. She was lively and passionate and good at directing her attentions in a way that made her partner feel like the center of the world.

But… Tarrington?

For God's sake, she'd just made Tarrington laugh. And everyone knew that Tarrington had absolutely no sense of humor.

"I have to hand it to Kimberly. That's impressive," a voice whispered in Shane's ear.

He didn't jump because he was a spy at what amounted to a spy convention and he'd been well aware that someone had been coming closer and closer as he stared at his ex-wife. Never mind that Tarrington had warned him that as long was he was at the training center, he'd be facing a number of tests of his own.

He still hadn't quite expected Gabrielle to materialize beside him. He hadn't heard from her in almost three years, which, considering that they shared a daughter, wasn't exactly a testament to their mutual excellent parenting skill.

"Hello, Gabrielle," he said calmly, not opening the door to further discussion of Kimberly. "Were you able to speak with Eve before she left for Africa?"

"Briefly," said Gabrielle. "She and Frankie were supposed to meet with me in New York on their way, but they had some sort of change of plans, and then I was summoned here." Gabrielle made a gesture of frustrated acceptance common to all longterm field agents.

"Did you spend much time together in the past two years?" It felt strange to ask. It felt like something he should have known.

"I was deep undercover when they declared you dead, Shane. I didn't know. I wish I could have been there for her. I should have been there for her."

It was a familiar refrain, and one he often heard in his own head. He could hardly judge Gabrielle for prioritizing her career over her traumatized teenager, not when he'd done the same thing. And Gabrielle at least had the excuse of having tried to find a more fit set of parents for Eve. It hadn't been Gabrielle's fault that the Barons had turned out to be terribly detached and disinterested, not at all what a willful and spirited girl like Eve had needed…

"I know the feeling," he told Gabrielle. He looked at Gabrielle now— it was only polite— but he could still see Kim in his peripheral vision. Tarrington made a ceremonial bow as Kim moved on to a new dance partner, a blushing young agent called Jaren Stroud. Shane hadn't worked with Stroud directly, but all reports were that he showed great promise.

"Do you think Africa will be good for her?" Gabrielle asked.

"I think it certainly can't hurt for her to explore new places and situations while she's young."

"That's true." Gabrielle set the glass of wine she'd been drinking on the sideboard. "Dance with me?"

Under the circumstances, it was all but required. He extended his hand to Gabrielle and led her onto the floor: far enough away from Kim and Stroud that they wouldn't have to interact but close enough that Shane could continue to watch. Stroud was tentative, hesitant. Was that part of his act, something he did to inspire his unknowing contacts to let their secrets slip? Or was he really overwhelmed by Kimberly, a woman just enough his senior to be exotic and enticing?

He could see Kim speaking earnestly to Stroud; Stroud straightened his shoulders just slightly. Kim's effect on the young man was real regardless of whether his initial nervousness had been artifice.

"But Eve loves shopping and singing and nightclubs and fancy clothes. There are places in Africa that you can find all of that, but my understanding is that none of them are on Frankie's itinerary."

"My understanding, too," admitted Shane. "Eve is old enough to make her own choices. And she's matured a great deal recently." He hoped that that was true, anyway. It niggled at the back of his mind, the way she'd lied to him when he hadn't been able to remember who he was, the way she hadn't shown a hint of remorse, the way she hadn't expected him to care when he regained his memory and found her out. And the way he'd lived up to her expectations. (Or down to her expectations, depending on who you asked. Kim would have said something about teenagers needing a boundary to push against. And Kim did know more about child development than most people.)

Meanwhile, Kim switched partners again. Shane knew Ardal Odran a bit; he was approaching the middle of his career and was competent but not spectacular. It certainly would have pleased Shawn Brady to see his daughter dancing with Odran, who was currently the highest-ranking Irish national in the ISA. And Shane would have bet dollars to doughnuts that Kim was telling Odran as much, and that Odran found Kim's description of her Irish-American father quite charming. At any rate, Odran found something Kim was saying charming.

"I'm glad that Eve will be with Frankie," said Gabrielle. "She's loved him for so long."

"Better him than Nick Corelli," Shane agreed darkly.

"Or Jack Deveraux. She didn't really marry that man, did she?"

"I'm afraid she did. But the situation has been put to rights."

Odran stopped dancing and gave Kim a hug. A hug! And they'd only just met. She gestured to Albert Kalervo. Bert was a friend to both Shane and Odran, and would have been a better agent if he'd been less focused on having a life outside the ISA. Kim shook Bert's hand; he could tell by the way she cocked her head that she was reminding Bert that they'd met before, probably asking about Bert's twin daughters in a way that made it seem as if she saw the girls at playdates regularly.

Kimberly Brady knew how to work a room, and she knew how to make friends. She would have half the attendees of the conference falling over themselves to help her and it was only just the first night.

He didn't love her any longer, and he would never love her again. But that didn't mean he couldn't admire her particular talents.

She'd dressed for the occasion, too. The dress was just fitted enough to make every heterosexual man in the room take notice, but just sedate enough to indicate that she wasn't trying to attract the notice of anyone in particular. The deep shade of red complemented the flush in her cheeks and the highlights in her hair.

Yes, he decided, she had passed her first test.

"Forgive me for being blunt, Shane," said Gabrielle.

He'd almost forgotten that she was in his arms. "My apologies, Gabrielle."

"Are the two of you back together?"

"What?"

"Eve told me that she didn't think that you and Kimberly were ever going to get back together. She told me that you'd moved on with Kayla. Now I know that Eve is prone to flights of fancy and wishful thinking, but somehow I thought that she'd been honest about you."

Shane shook his head. He didn't know what he'd expected Gabrielle to say when she'd warned him that she was about to be blunt, but whatever it was, it hadn't been that. "No. Eve was quite correct. Kimberly and I had something special, but it is over and has been for a very long time. Kayla and I are extremely happy together."

Gabrielle lowered her voice. "I cannot imagine Kayla being happy about the way you're staring at Kim right now."

"I'm not staring," Shane hissed, keeping his own voice just above a whisper. "I'm evaluating. She is supposed to prove herself fit for duty and able to make connections under challenging circumstances."

"And she passed that test as soon as she made Tarrington laugh." The song ended and Gabrielle disentangled herself from Shane. "And in case I'm being tested as well, I suppose I'd better find myself a new dance partner."

She crossed the room and did just that.

Shane let himself fade into the background. If he failed this particular test, he simply didn't care. He was the most decorated field agent in the history of the ISA. He had turned down more promotions than he had bothered to count. He did not have to pretend to be in the mood for a social occasion to which he could not bring Kayla.

But fading into the background was easier thought than done when there were no shadows and everyone else in the room was also an accomplished spy. Bert, who was difficult to intimidate with a disinterested glare, made his way to Shane and clasped his hand.

"Not enjoying the opening reception, Captain Donovan?" asked Bert with mock surprise.

"Not especially," said Shane honestly.

"I heard that Agent Peach took a turn for the worse today," said Bert. "I was sorry to hear that. I know how close the two of you are."

"How do you know that?" Shane demanded.

Bert looked genuinely puzzled. "It's not a secret. Didn't you once ask her to leave the ISA entirely and work for you directly because you were angry that she was removed from your assignment?"

"It was Ogden Vaughn who did that because he needed to get a dirty agent closer to me," said Shane irritably. "And what I meant was, how did you know she took a turn?"

"Tarrington has me helping with the response," said Bert mildly. "Keeping up with the sick agents is part of my job at the moment."

"How are the others doing?"

"We lost Don Deryck."

Shane flinched. Don Deryck had been about Peach's age, more than old enough to retire, more than sharp enough to stay on if he liked. And he had liked, often quite successfully posing as a harmless, slightly confused grandfather.

Kim was dancing with Trevor Conor now. Conor was even younger than Stroud. How were all of the agents so young lately? Unlike Stroud, Conor was completely at ease. He was flirting with Kim, and Kim was flirting back. Just having a lovely time while Don Deryck was dead, and Lavinia Peach soon to follow.

The training had been Shane's idea, and Shane hadn't wanted Kim mixed up in this mess in the first place, but that didn't mean that she had to enjoy herself.

She certainly didn't have to look at Conor like he was the only man in the world.

She certainly didn't have to repeat that performance with five other men before Shane had had enough and cut in.

He felt Kim's sudden intake of breath as he pulled her tightly against his chest— not with affection, never with affection again— so they could speak without being overheard. "Just what were you doing?" he hissed in her ear.

"Dancing," she hissed back. "I know for a fact that you've heard of it."

"That's not what I meant and you bloody well know it."

He could feel her body tense in his arms. She'd been so relaxed with the others. It was different with him. "I hardly ever know what you mean or what you want anymore, Shane. You told me to come here. I didn't want to come, but I came. You kicked me off your plane and told me to find another way to get here. I did that, too. You told me to bring cocktail dresses because there would be formal occasions with the hoity toity bigwigs. I am here, wearing a cocktail dress, and when the hoity toitiest biggest wig asked me to dance, I danced. So, no, I do not bloody well know what you meant."

The worst of it was that everything she'd said was true. She'd done everything he'd asked her to do, and she'd done it splendidly.

He began to wish that he hadn't skipped dinner. Something that was almost like hunger and almost like nausea settled in his stomach. And the headache that had been threatening to overtake him all day— in Peach's hospital room, in the psychologist's office, in this very ballroom— had blossomed into excruciating pain.

He had always been prone to headaches, and they'd certainly become both more frequent and more intense in recent years, but this one was extraordinary in the worst way.

For a brief second, with Kim pressed against him as in years past, he considered apologizing and telling her the truth. He considered begging her to make their excuses, get them both out of the ballroom, find him some ibuprofen, and rub his temples like she'd done for the first time when they'd barely known each other.

Then he remembered that the last time he'd had one of these headaches, it had been Kayla who'd rubbed his temples and that it was Kayla whose steadfast honesty was going to help alleviate this sort of thing going forward.

"This can all be over if you just tell me why you changed your mind about Alamain," he whispered instead. "What did Kayla say to you in the courthouse?"

"That is not my secret to tell," Kim whispered back, and if she looked distressed, he didn't care. He wasn't the one who had abandoned their marriage and sent divorce papers by post.

"Fine," he snapped. "Enjoy Gabrielle's lecture tomorrow."

"I will," she said, all contrariness. "I'm looking forward to learning more about Amelia, Pierre, and Georges."

"You are not! That's a horrid story." He understood why Gabrielle planned to tell it— if someone in the class couldn't even stand to hear the story, he or she clearly didn't have the stomach for ISA work— but he didn't entirely want Kim listening to it.

Kim shrugged as best as she could while still in his grip. He ignored the way that made her breasts move against his chest. "I've heard horrid stories before. Even lived a few."

And I'd like to stop you from living a few more, he thought but didn't say.

His head pounded harder, and when the music stopped he let go of Kim. She didn't even look at him as she sought her next partner.

To be continued.