\o/

Recoil

Part 4-10: Dinner and a Show

On the small airliner back to Brockton Bay, I let Andrea have the window seat; I took the middle seat, and Kinsey sat on the aisle. The aircraft had all the legroom of a matchbox aspiring to become a sardine can, but the burly Sergeant could at least stretch his legs into the aisle when things got too cramped. I half-turned toward Andrea to give my knees more room, and endured.

As we lifted off, Andrea craned her neck to look out the window, but lost interest once we were properly airborne and winging our way back to the United States.

"Not going to give us a running commentary?" I teased her with a smile.

"Nah." She wrinkled her nose at me, then yawned capaciously. "Seen it all before anyway."

Kicking her shoes off, she tucked her legs under her in a way that no-one with a Y chromosome could duplicate, and put her head on my shoulder. Within what seemed like seconds, she was asleep, emitting tiny, kittenish snores. Lifting my arm, I put it around her shoulders; without opening her eyes, she snuggled into me and went straight back to sleep.

I had to admit that it was very comforting to have her curled up next to me, her weight warm against my side. My visit to Andrew Richter had reminded me yet again that I would not be able to finesse my way to a perfect solution every single time; my job was going to be difficult if not actually impossible. No. Not impossible. I refuse to accept that. I refuse to despair.

Andrea was my reminder that there were people I could trust, whom I could lean on. She gave me strength. She gave me direction. And, perhaps more important than anything else, she gave me an excuse to laugh and be silly. To be human.

A smile crossed my face as I recalled the tickle war in the back of the car. Had Richter witnessed that, he would never have questioned my humanity; his idea of artificial intelligence would simply not encompass antics of that nature.

"She's asleep?" rumbled Kinsey, beside me.

I nodded, very slightly, so as not to disturb her. "Out like a light."

"If I may speak plainly, ma'am?"

"Of course, Kinsey."

"I will admit that I had my doubts about her, at first," he murmured. "But my opinion has changed. She's good for you. With her in the same room, you're more relaxed. You need that, ma'am."

I nodded again, just as briefly. "Thank you, Kinsey. I'd already come to that conclusion, but it's good to have a corroborating opinion." My smile belied my formal words. I didn't bother mentioning the time they had spent together by the lake; that wouldn't have swayed his opinion of her one way or the other. If he'd thought she was bad for me, he still would have told me so; such was the measure of Sergeant James McMartin Kinsey.

"So, what are your plans from here, ma'am?" he asked, as if discussing the weather. "Is there anything else I need to worry about during the rest of your leave?"

"Actually, no," I replied. "I'm fully intending to spend the rest of the time just … being me. Unwinding. Relaxing."

An almost soundless snort from the sergeant. "As you should have been doing the whole time."

"Well, you can't say it hasn't been interesting."

"'Interesting'," he retorted, "will be facing up to the Lieutenant-Colonel after we get back. That is an interview that I'm not looking forward to."

"Why, Sergeant Kinsey," I told him, injecting mock surprise into my murmur, "I'm surprised at you. You're thirty years younger than Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, and outweigh him twice over with muscle alone. You almost sound scared of him."

"It's not fear, ma'am," he responded stiffly. "It's respect."

"I can accept that," I agreed. "I don't think I'll enjoy it either." I shrugged slightly. "With luck, he won't take our heads all the way off. After all, the news crews were singing the PRT's praises from the rooftops, last I saw."

He nodded. "We can only hope, ma'am. We can only hope."

-ooo-

Andrea slept through the whole flight, only waking up as we were descending toward the Brockton Bay airport. She yawned and stretched like a cat; this was very impressive, given that she was still strapped into her seat.

"Yay!" she exclaimed, looking out the window at the landscape rising below us. "America! The home of the brave and the land of the Fred!"

I blinked. "The land of the … what?"

She turned her bright, ingenuous gaze upon me. "Fred. You know, the guy behind the counter at McDonalds? He gives me extra fries if I bat my eyelashes and look pouty." She demonstrated on me. I had to admit, she was very good at it.

"Andrea," I told her as sternly as I could while trying not to smile, "I'd say you were incorrigible and shameless, but … "

"But we both knew that already, yeah." She bounced in her seat, even with the seatbelt on. "So come on, get this thing on the ground already. I wanna get out."

"Andrea," I sighed, leaning back, "there are many excellent reasons why you should never be encouraged to join the military, but one of those would have to be your inability to understand the concept of 'hurry up and wait'."

"Hurry up and what now?" she asked, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that last word."

"I'll catch you," I threatened.

"Sorry to burst your bubble," she replied impudently, "but that happened a long time ago."

"Yeah, it did," I sighed, putting my arm around her again, and rubbing my cheek against her riot of curls, "and I'm pretty sure it's a terminal case."

"What, are you saying I'll be the death of you?" she retorted playfully. "Okay, challenge accepted. Sexual exhaustion it is."

"Oh god," I groaned, blushing despite myself. "You did not just say that on a crowded plane."

"I didn't?" She looked interested. "I must have been imagining it. Oh well, I'll say it out loud th-"

I only knew two ways to shut Andrea Campbell up. The first way, a hand over her mouth, generally didn't work all that well; even with her mouth covered, she could make the most amazingly obscene noises. Worse, as I had learned the hard way, she possessed little in the way of scruples as to where she grabbed or tweaked me, and so could usually struggle free with a little effort. And as I had also learned to my cost, the presence of other people would not inhibit her in the slightest.

So I shut her up in the one way in which she was guaranteed not to struggle; I leaned down and kissed her. Predictably, she did not object in the slightest, instead wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down toward her.

Our kiss was interrupted by the chirp of the tyres on tarmac; I had to disengage and sit up to brace against the deceleration. Fortunately, Andrea had been sufficiently distracted by the kiss – or perhaps it had been her aim all along to get me to kiss her – and sat relatively quietly until Kinsey judged it worthwhile to try to deplane.

I walked ahead, with Kinsey behind and Andrea in the middle, so that nobody jostled her. We carried our winter-weight jackets over our arms, given that the temperature in Brockton Bay, even getting toward evening, was well above freezing. Once more, we went through Customs, where our lack of luggage stood us in good stead; we had nothing to declare, and we had flown out only that morning, so we got back through with a minimum of fuss.

Our hire car was still in the parking lot; we piled in. Andrea pulled me into the back seat, and sat in the middle so that she could snuggle up to me. "Wow," she murmured, as Kinsey drove us toward the exit. "We parked here this morning, and we're driving out in the evening. In that time, we've flown to Canada and back, risked death by moose -"

"We saw two moose the whole way," I interrupted. "And they were in the distance. Neither of them even came close to the highway."

"You were asleep on the way back," she pointed out. "A whole squadron of moose could have done Swan Lake in the middle of the road, and you wouldn't have known a thing about it."

"Herd of moose," I corrected her.

"Sure I've heard of moose," she replied cheerfully. "Who hasn't? Moose are funny to look at. And it's fun to say. Moose."

Slowly, I shook my head. "You know I meant -"

"Anyway," she went on. "Before you changed the subject, I was saying something. About moose. Ah, right. We flew to an airport in the middle of nowhere that was named after some sort of goose, drove to the middle of more nowhere, and you spent about ten minutes talking to some guy in his house. And you won't tell us a thing about it. For that I gave up my day."

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"For what?" she asked, looking at me askance.

"For wasting your time."

"Pfft. This is the most fun I've had in ages." She leaned against me, holding my arm tightly. "Any time you want to take off for a mysterious trip into wherever, let me know. I'm coming along."

I met Kinsey's eyes in the mirror, and raised my eyebrows slightly in query. He responded with a very slight shrug. Well, it's official. Neither one of us can figure her out.

-ooo-

"Ma'am, the parking lot is full up," reported Kinsey. "If I drop you two out at the front, you'll be all right to get inside?"

"I believe so," I replied dryly. "If anyone tries to mug us, I will explain to them the error of their ways. And then Andrea can go through their pockets for loose change while we wait for them to wake up."

"Okay, that sounds like fun," Andrea agreed. "I've never actually seen you go all psycho on someone. Except when you and Gladys were doing that stick fighting thing at the lake."

"Ma'am," agreed Kinsey. He pulled the car to a halt, hazard lights blinking, while Andrea and I climbed out. I closed the door, then slapped the roof of the car twice to let Kinsey know that we were out and clear.

As he drove off to find a parking spot, we strolled up toward the door of Andrea's apartment building. Despite my brave words, I kept a careful eye out while Andrea led the way to her front door. A single attacker, I was pretty sure I could handle. Two competent armed attackers, or three average ones, I might have trouble with. Not that I thought we would be mugged, but this was Brockton Bay, and these were what they used to call the 'bad old days'. Even though Brockton Bay in my time was apparently even worse.

However, we reached the apartment with no trouble, and Andrea unlocked the door. She made it two steps inside, then stopped dead. Nor did I move any farther myself; we had a visitor.

He stood foursquare in the middle of the living room, hands behind his back. His clothing hearkened back to yesteryear, a ruffled shirt with full sleeves, and formal trousers. Over it, bands made of bone went over his forearms and crossed over his chest, with enough covering his face to act as a mask. His hair, worn long, was held back by the bone headpiece. On another man, the fancy clothing and the long hair could have looked effeminate. On him, it did not.

"Good evening, ladies," he greeted us; his voice was deep, smooth, courteous. Now that he wasn't shouting to make himself heard, I got the impression of cultured manners covering rough edges underneath. Of someone consciously trying to better himself.

"Marquis," I replied grimly. 'What is this?" Carefully, I stepped forward, put Andrea behind me. She didn't object, but she kept craning her head out to look around me.

"Nothing sinister, I assure you, my dear Captain Snow. Neither you nor the delightful Ms Campbell have anything to fear from me."

That left one person. "Kinsey." My voice was flat. "If your men have harmed him in any way -"

"Then I will deal with them as finally as I deal with anyone else who fails me," he pointed out. "I left specific orders for him to be detained but not harmed."

"I can't guarantee that state of affairs will hold true in reverse," I told him. "What is it that you want with me?"

"To ask you to dinner, of course," he stated, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I didn't answer, not at first. My gaze raked him; I studied him, committing every detail to memory. He didn't fidget, didn't keep talking. His return gaze was confident, self-assured, intense.

"Why?" I asked, eventually.

His head tilted slightly, as if questioning. "Captain Snow, that should be self-evident. You are clearly an intelligent woman, and very strong-willed, if your track record with the PRT is anything to go by. I find you interesting. Intriguing, even."

"Is this anything to do with the fact that your last girlfriend has just left you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes widened behind the bone mask. "Colour me very impressed, Captain," he responded. "You know more about my personal affairs than many." His smile broadened slightly. "And you realise that you've just piqued my curiosity about you somewhat."

"Well, that curiosity will just have to remain unsatisfied," I decided. "As interesting as such a dinner might be, I have no desire to be seen in public with an up-and-coming crime lord as yourself. People may not know your face now, but in time, they will. And then they may start asking questions. Questions which I would rather not have to answer."

"But aren't you the least bit intrigued?" he asked urbanely. "To break bread with a supervillain? To learn the thoughts and motivations of one of the people you're sworn to oppose?"

I smiled, grimly. "You would be shocked and astonished, Marquis, if you knew with whom I have broken bread, and under what circumstances. I know the supervillain mindset all too well. It's why I'm so good at my job." With Andrea still behind me, I moved to the side. Keeping one arm before her – more to keep her back than to protect her, given that I knew that she was perfectly safe from him – I gestured at the door with my free hand. "Your dinner invitation is declined. Feel free to see yourself out."

"Very well, Captain." He moved toward the door, then paused. "Should you ever change your mind, I'm sure that you will be able to find me."

"Despite what I know about you, I will not be bothering you," I answered his unspoken query. "Unless you ever come near my friend again. In which case, I will return to Brockton Bay, and 'bothering' will be far too mild a term to use to describe my actions."

"I give you my word. Ms Campbell will be safe from my attentions." His head tilted in an ironic bow, and then he strode past us and out the door.

I slammed it behind him and locked it, in one smooth move. Then I darted to my bedroom, wary for ambush; I didn't think he'd leave a man in the apartment, but I was trained to make no assumptions.

Nobody ambushed me, and I located my Glock; with it in hand, I cleared the rest of the apartment rapidly. Andrea was still standing in the living room, in what appeared to be a state of shock, as I emerged once more.

"You okay?" I asked her, guiding her to an armchair.

"Yuh," she agreed. "That was Marquis."

"I know, sweetie, I know." I kissed her. "Can you stay right here for me? Lock the door behind me."

"Uh, sure."

Glock held low by my side, I stepped out through the doorway, checking left and right. It was all clear. I headed for the stairwell, and took them two at a time. If they've hurt Kinsey, I'll never be able to forgive myself.

I emerged on to the street, Glock still held down alongside my hip. Down the street, in the direction that Kinsey had taken the car, men were stumbling and staggering toward a canvas-topped truck. I moved in that direction, fast. The pistol was so small that it didn't unbalance me as I ran.

The last man scrambled over the tailgate, and the truck lurched into motion before I was halfway there. There was a small side street, almost an alleyway; the men had been coming out of there. I guessed that it was where Kinsey had decided to park.

Pistol now up and tracking, I moved into the side-street. My eyes flicked from side to side, the pistol following my line of vision. I heard a groan, but couldn't see anyone. Every instinct screamed at me to rush to the sound, but I kept moving carefully, ensuring that there was no more danger in the area.

"Kinsey?" I called. "Snow. Coming in."

There was no answer; the car had been parked, but one door sat open. I could see a pair of legs protruding from in front of the car. I could also see the damage done to the car itself; at first I thought that they had vandalised it, hitting it with sledgehammers or something. But then I realised that every dent, every smashed window, had been done with a rounded implement. Some had left behind smears of blood and hair. There had been at least six men that I saw climbing into the truck; Kinsey had obviously decided to take them all on. And from the looks of it – and from the looks of several of the trash cans in the vicinity, all of which bore decidedly battered appearances – he had given a good account of himself.

Finally, drawing a deep breath, hoping against hope that his injuries would not be too severe, I stepped around the door and approached Kinsey himself.

Except that it wasn't Kinsey.

It was a man whom I had never seen before.

I drew a deep breath, looking around. Stepped back from the man, kept moving. Perhaps Kinsey was farther away. "Kinsey!" I shouted; my voice was reflected back at me by the buildings close by on either side.

He was nowhere close. I returned to the injured man, looked more closely at him. The clothing was bloodstained and torn, but now I recognised it. The pattern of the suit was one I had seen before; the man who wore it was tall, muscular, not the type to wear a suit.

One of Marquis' men. Too badly injured to move.

He groaned again, with a bubbling sound; I looked more closely. His chest was oddly shaped; it looked caved in on one side. I had some basic battlefield medical training, but nothing that could help this man. Even a full trauma team would be hard put to bring him back from the brink, and that only if he was on the table right there in front of them. About the only thing that could save him in his current state would be Panacea, and she had yet to be born.

It would probably take a forensics team hours to piece together the full action, but I could work out the gist of it. Marquis' men had been waiting for us to return. They had wanted to hold Kinsey while their boss spoke to me. Unfortunately for them, Kinsey fought back, and while I had never seen him in an all-in brawl, I could attest to how good he was when he was holding back.

It took me a moment to realise that the bubbling had stopped. Stepping forward, pistol at the ready in case this was some truly elaborate trap, I checked for a pulse. There was none.

Carefully, taking more time, I checked up and down the side-street for anything else; a clue, a hint that Kinsey might have gotten away.

Nothing.

Damn you, Marquis. I might just have to hurt you, now.

-ooo-

Finally, I retraced my steps. It was full dark now, as I climbed the steps to Andrea's apartment. With my pistol still in hand, I knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Andrea's voice.

"Taylor," I replied.

There was a long pause. "How do I know someone doesn't have their gun at your head?"

"Moose," I called back through the door.

She opened the door immediately, and flung her arms around me. I hugged her back carefully, mindful of the pistol. Without letting her go, I moved inside and pushed the door shut with my foot.

"Where's Jim?" she asked, without letting me go. "Is he going after them?"

Carefully, I disentangled her arms from me. "Andrea," I told her carefully. "I think he might have been abducted."

Her eyes went very wide. "Kidnapped?"

I nodded. "By Marquis' men, I think. Because -"

"- because you said no," she filled in. "Oh shit. Oh shit. What's going to happen to him?"

"Absolutely nothing," I told her firmly. "Because I'm going to get him back."

Andrea stared at me. "What? Shouldn't we call the police?"

Carefully, I placed the pistol on the coffee table, then took her by the arms. "Andrea. Sweetie. The police will take over the situation, assume they know much better than me, and fuck it all up. Marquis is ruthless; people will get hurt. Maybe even Kinsey. Although Marquis will probably be reluctant to harm him, given that he thinks I know at least a bit about his operation."

She stared back at me. "And you think you can do better."

I nodded. "I'm his worst nightmare. A woman, who can find out all the information I need about his operation, who's willing to walk right in and kill as many of his men as I need to, in order to get Kinsey back."

"Wow. Yeah. Are you gonna kill him too?"

"Nope." I shook my head.

"Shut him down? Hand him over to the cops?"

Again, I shook my head. "Just take Kinsey away from him."

"But why?" She stared at me. "He's a criminal! He's dangerous!"

"There's a girl. She's going to need him as a father for just a little bit, in a few years' time. I need him alive and free to do that."

"Doesn't sound like a very good father to me."

"From what Lisa's told me, when he puts his all into being a father, he's really good at it." I guided her to the sofa and pulled her down to sit next to me. From habit, she climbed on to my lap. We held each other close; she put her head on my shoulder.

"Just … be careful, okay?" she asked. "I mean, I can see that look in your eye. The look that means nothing's gonna stand in your way. I can't talk you out of this. But … be careful?"

I kissed her gently; she clung to me.

"Always," I whispered.

-ooo-

"Oh, hey." Lisa turned from the sights of the ridiculously elaborate hunting rifle she had set up on the edge of the hunting blind; it made the Barret with which Gladys had ended Heartbreaker's life look like a cap pistol. She was back to wearing her dino-wrangling gear, topped by a weathered slouch hat. "Looking for information on Marquis, huh?"

You know it. I hugged her.

"What's that for?" But she hugged me back anyway.

Just letting you know how much I appreciate you.

"Hey, I appreciate you letting me live here rent free," she replied cheerfully. "So yeah, here's the skinny on the bone guy." Picking up a tablet from the gun rest, she handed it to me, then peered through the scope again. "Woo hoo. Thar she blows." Absently, she waved flies away from her face.

Leaning forward, I looked through the spotter scope. A huge furry beast shambled into view, reaching out with a trunk to pluck up a small shrub. What? A woolly mammoth?

"Yup." She grinned at me, then peered through the scope once more and began to rotate a crank attached to the mechanism that held the rifle in place. The rifle swivelled almost imperceptibly.

But … why?

"Have you seen the size of the rugs you can make out of those suckers?"

I guess you have a point.

"Well, I won't keep you. You've got a sergeant to rescue. Kiss before you go?"

I leaned forward and kissed her. Her lips tasted of dust and blood and sun balm. A fly buzzed close to my eye; I blinked.

-ooo-

My eyes opened to Andrea leaning against me, her head on my shoulder. We still sat on the sofa; in my hands was a large pad. On the pad was a carefully drawn diagram of the layout of the safe-house in which Kinsey was being kept, where Marquis placed his guards, and the actual location of the safe-house in Marquis' territory. Other notes went around the margin. A little separate was a string of digits.

Andrea pointed at that. "Is that … ?"

"His direct number, yes."

"Holy crap. You just pulled his number out of thin air. Oh wow." I could tell that she was starting to recover from the shock of the home invasion. "That could come in so handy." She paused, and checked herself. "Well, it could have, before I met you."

I suppressed a smile. "I am not your personal dating service." My tone was reproving but fond.

"Sure you are." She snuggled up to me. "We go on dates all the time."

"You know what I mean. Now, can I have the phone?"

Grumbling about having to get up, she fetched the cordless phone and brought it over to me. I waited till she was settled next to me before I dialled.

"Hello?"

"Marquis."

"Good god, Captain Snow?" A pause. "How did you get this number?"

"I'm a Captain in the Intelligence division," I told him bluntly. "It's what I do. Now, you have someone I want back, in one piece."

"Your Sergeant Kinsey. You warned me, but I didn't realise just how dangerous he was. One of my men had to be left behind; how is he?"

"He didn't make it," I reported. "There was nothing that could be done. How is Kinsey?"

"A little banged up, but he's in better condition than some of my men. He'll survive."

I didn't let my relief sound in my voice. "Good. I'm guessing that you pulled off this ridiculous stunt in order to insist that I have dinner with you."

"You are as perceptive as ever. A quiet dinner date in a private location, where prying eyes cannot see us together, then maybe a stroll along the Boardwalk, after?"

"Hmm. I have a counter-offer. You release Sergeant Kinsey, unharmed, and I don't bring the wrath of God down upon your head."

His tone hardened slightly. "My dear Captain Snow, I am trying to be gentlemanly about this, but may I remind you; the good Sergeant is in my hands, and as much as I admire you, threats will not work toward his best interests. My offer is this; have dinner with me, and he will be released unharmed. My word on it." He didn't say what would happen to Kinsey if I refused outright. I decided that I would rather not find out.

"Give me a few hours to think about it," I prevaricated. "Then I'll get back to you."

"Don't take too long," he suggested. "The man he killed was a good one."

"Oh, you'll hear from me soon," I assured him.

"Good. Oh, and in case you're intending to involve the police … don't. They'll take days or weeks to get any sort of result. And if I have to wait more than a day, it will not go well for your Sergeant Kinsey."

"Believe me, I know," I told him grimly. "This will just be between me and you."

"Excellent," he replied warmly. "I look forward to your call."

Andrea, who had been listening intently to both sides of the conversation with her ear pressed up against the handset, looked at me enquiringly as I ended the call.

"Are you actually gonna go to dinner with him?"

I snorted. "As if."

She frowned. "Well, why didn't you accept in the first place? He actually looked kind of sexy. And it might have saved some problems."

"The last thing I want to do in this town is give the local criminals the wrong idea about the PRT," I reminded her.

"I could go in your place," she suggested brightly. "I'm not PRT, and I've never had dinner with a supervillain."

"And if the other villains in town get wind of this?" I reminded her. "Butcher and the Teeth? Galvanate? The Empire Eighty-Eight? If they decide that you're a good leverage point, you'll be kidnapped, and your chances of survival after that go down dramatically."

"Oh." She drooped. "I didn't think of that."

"It's okay," I assured her. "And I appreciate the offer. But this is gonna have to go down my way."

"What can I do to help?" she asked immediately.

I smiled. "I'm going to need your biggest handbag and your slinkiest dress … "

Andrea grinned. "Challenge accepted."

-ooo-

Humphrey Kimball bounded from his car and closed the door. The dinner invitation from Captain Snow – Taylor – had come out of the blue, but he hadn't argued. He pressed the buzzer at the apartment entrance door, and the lock clicked almost immediately.

At the top of the steps, he paused to catch his breath, then strode forward to knock on the appropriate apartment door. It opened; Taylor stood there, wearing a dress that flattered her figure dramatically.

"Hi," she greeted him, then leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I am so glad that you were free."

He frowned. "Uh … isn't that large Sergeant of yours coming along?"

She rolled her eyes, and gestured into the apartment. Now Kimball heard the noises; the squeaking of bedsprings were interspersed with the sounds of a woman in the throes of passion.

"Kinsey and Andrea have … discovered one another. I need to get out of the place. Can we go, please?"

"Isn't he supposed to be your security detail?" he pressed. "You were kind of insistent on that, before."

"Are you armed?" she asked bluntly.

He blinked. "Uh, yes."

"Then I feel secure enough. Come on, let's go, before they really get going. Again."

She took his arm, and pressed close to him; her perfume should have been illegal. "Okay, sure," he agreed. "Let's go." A thought struck him. "Where are we going?"

She closed the door behind her and smiled. "Well, how about dinner and a movie?"

-ooo-

I had picked the restaurant; the lighting was low, with gentle background music to complement the clinking of cutlery against crockery. The food was excellent, but the main reason I had wanted to come here was its proximity to a certain area of town. We've wasted an hour and a half so far. God, I hope Kinsey's still okay.

Kimball sat back and sighed. "Wow, that was really good. But aren't you hungry? You barely picked at your meal."

I gave him the best smile that I could manage. "If I eat too much in this dress, I might just pop a seam."

He admired the dress, again; or rather, he admired the effect that it had on my figure. Which, I had to admit, was very flattering. "I have to admit, it's not one I imagined a Captain in the PRT wearing."

"Just between you and me, I stole it from Andrea's wardrobe," I confessed.

"Maybe I should arrest you for theft," he commented playfully.

"And let me guess, strip-search me?" I countered, with a smile.

"Well, maybe," he conceded. His eyes searched mine, looking for hints that I wasn't just flirting.

"Maybe later," I suggested. "We've still got a movie to watch."

"We could just go for a stroll along the Boardwalk," he suggested.

"No, this is one I want to see. And I'd like you to see it with me," I told him. And besides, I want to be in a dark movie theatre with you. Just not for the reason you think.

"Then I want to see it with you," he declared. Lisa was right. Men are so easy to manipulate.

I reached across and took his hand. "I'm so glad that you were able to come out with me tonight."

"Me too," he agreed, squeezing my hand gently. "Me too."

-ooo-

"I can't believe Andrea's asking me to do this!"

Danny took Anne-Rose in his arms. "It's for Taylor. And Sergeant Kinsey," he reminded her. "His life's in danger, otherwise."

She leaned up against him. "But going out with the guy Taylor's dating?"

"All you have to do is sit in a dark movie theatre with him," Danny soothed her. "I'll be close by."

"What if he tries to kiss me? Or grope me?"

"Tell him 'not until later', and pretend you're really engrossed in the movie."

Despite herself, she snorted. "Can I at least slap him?"

He grinned. "Only if he gets really grabby. But she'll be keeping him at arms' length, so you can too."

A sigh. "Fine. But only because it's Andrea who's asking. And only to save a life."

He kissed her, as tenderly as he knew how. She responded in kind. For a long moment, she held him close, then slowly disengaged. "Okay, fine," she told him briskly. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly. Help me put my hair up."

-ooo-

"You sure this is the theatre you want to go to?" asked Kimball doubtfully. "You do realise, it's in Marquis's territory. Kind of tempting fate, here."

"I told you, Marquis doesn't hurt women or kids," I assured him.

"So why did you have us sneak the back way out of the apartment building?" he asked.

Because Lisa told me that his men were watching the front, but not the back. "Because I like to vary my routine. Intelligence training; you know how it goes. It's good to get into the habit of not having a habit."

"I ... see." It was clear that he didn't, not really. Of course, the bad spy-movie dialogue didn't help. Which was really my intention.

Humphrey's good-casual attire didn't draw much in the way of attention as we entered the lobby, but my borrowed dress – showing off rather more leg than it did when Andrea wore it, given that I had quite a few inches of height on her – caused a few heads to turn. Of course, people were looking at the dress, rather than my face, which was also the intention here. That tall brunette in the dress? Yes, sir, she came in and watched the whole movie. Yes, sir.

I was personally a little dubious about the dress – it was considerably slinkier and more revealing than, well, anything I had ever worn before – but I had to admit, Andrea's judgement was right on the money. The whole time that we were purchasing tickets, the attendant's eyes did not stray above my collar-line.

Personally glad that I had chosen to wear flats – I didn't want to tower over Kimball, after all – I accompanied him into the theatre. The movie I had told him I wanted to see – Yesterday's Hero, an action drama about an ageing cape coming out of retirement one last time – was doing all right at the box office, but there were few enough people in the theatre that we could sit next to each other. After the meal, I couldn't justify popcorn, but I had opted for a large fizzy drink each, to give Humphrey's hands something to do.

I led the way down the aisle, and chose my seat before he could decide otherwise; right next to the aisle. He had to slide past my legs to sit down, which he managed to do without spilling his drink on me. "I wanted to sit closer to the wall," he murmured, gesturing at the large expanse of empty seating beside him.

"This dress is hard enough to walk in normally without showing off more than I really want to," I reminded him in a whisper. "Climbing between seats, no thanks."

"So why did you grab one that was so ... revealing?" he wanted to know.

"First one I could find that wouldn't get me arrested," I told him. "Trust me, the other ones were worse."

"So why not that outfit you wore the other day?"

"Because Andrea and Kinsey were on my bed," I retorted. "Now shush. I want to watch the trailers."

He took the hint and sat back to watch the screen and sip his drink, while I slurped mine through the straw. About halfway through the trailers, a familiar figure got up from the front rows and made his way back up the aisle; I watched him go past out of the corner of my eye, but didn't turn my head. A minute or so later, as the trailers were coming to an end, I put my cup down in the holder.

"I think I need to visit the ladies' room," I whispered.

"Now?" he hissed. "But the movie's about to start!"

"Well, I'm not going to last the whole movie," I pointed out.

"Maybe you shouldn't have had so much soda."

"I was thirsty." With that witty rejoinder, I got up from my seat and hurried up the aisle. If he wondered why I took the borrowed handbag with me, I didn't give him much of a chance to ask me about it.

I slowed down when I entered the lobby; Danny was loitering at the concession stand. Our eyes met briefly, and he glanced toward the ladies' bathrooms. At his side, his hand showed three fingers projecting downward; Anne-Rose was in the third cubicle. How he knew this, I wasn't sure; Anne-Rose had probably checked which ones were free, then ducked out to tell him which one she would be in.

Well, let's do this. I entered the bathrooms, and ran into my first snag.

The second and fourth cubicles were also occupied.

I took a deep breath. Okay. This isn't the end of the world. I can get around this.

But I knew that whatever I did, it would have to be fast; if I took too long, Humphrey would start wondering where I was. If he came looking, and caught Anne-Rose coming out of the bathrooms, he might realise that she wasn't me; I would have a lot of explaining to do. And yes, he was interested in me, but he was also a police detective, and I had absolutely no guarantee that one would trump the other.

For perhaps ten seconds, I waited. Nobody flushed, nobody opened their cubicles. For all that the canard of 'women taking too long in the bathroom' was generally untrue, it seemed to be playing out in this particular instance.

So I stepped forward and tapped on the door of the third cubicle.

"Uh, occupied," came the voice of Anne-Rose from within.

"It's me," I hissed. "Open the door!"

"What?" But she was already undoing the lock. The door opened, and I slipped inside, coming face to face with a startled Anne-Rose. A startled Anne-Rose who was in her underwear.

Pushing the door shut with my butt, I reached behind me and turned the lock. "Help me," I murmured, turning so that she could reach the zipper. It went down at her tug, and I stepped out of the dress. Turning back again, I held it so that she could step into it.

It was fortunate that we were both on the skinny side; otherwise, dressing her in a toilet cubicle designed for one would have been absolutely impossible. As it was, I wasn't sure what the women on either side thought what was going on in our cubicle; nor did I want to know.

She shrugged the dress on over her shoulders, and I pulled the zipper up. It was fortunate that I had filled out a bit during my time in the PRT, because Anne-Rose would not normally have been as skinny as me; as it was, the dress was a little tighter around her, but not impossibly so. I kicked my flats off, and she slid her feet into them. "My god," she muttered, "there's nothing at all to this dress."

"It's Andrea's. Just try not to inhale too deeply," I advised her. "Here. Perfume."

She took the bottle and dabbed it on to her neck and wrists; immediately, the rich scent redoubled in the confined area.

"Right," she told me. "How do I look?"

Reaching up, I took the floppy cloth cap from her head, exposing her hair; it had been done up in a tight curl behind her head. With luck, in the darkness of the cinema, Humphrey wouldn't see any difference. I hoped.

"You look great," I told her. "I really appreciate this."

"You owe me for this," she told me feelingly. "You really do."

"I'll make it up to you. Somehow."

Closing her eyes for a moment, she sighed. "Okay. Danny thinks it's worthwhile. So let's do this. Where's he sitting? And where am I sitting?"

"About halfway down on the right. Danny knows where. He's one seat in, you're on the aisle. If he tries to kiss you, ignore him. Or elbow him, gently."

"It won't be gently," she told me grimly. "Okay, out of the way. He's got to be wondering where you are."

"Okay." I wormed around, then caught sight of the sparkle on her finger. "Shit, your engangement ring."

"Christ." She rolled her eyes and pulled the ring off of her left hand. "Kinsey better be worth it."

"He is." And then, just as she opened the door, I realised. "Glasses!" Pulling the pair I had off of my face, I handed them to her.

Putting them on, she nearly went cross-eyed. "Christ, your eyes are screwed up, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Now go!"

Closing the cubicle door behind her, I listened to the sound of her footsteps crossing the tiles, the sound of her briefly washing her hands, and then the outer door opening and closing. In the meantime, given that mostly everything in the cubicle was a blur, I was feeling through my handbag for my spare glasses, the ones I had been intending to give to her. I had also intended to swap bags after moving certain items from one to another, but we had been in too much of a hurry. Fuck, I hope it doesn't matter.

-ooo-

Anne-Rose emerged from the bathrooms; across the lobby, Danny finally completed his purchase of a large box of popcorn. They converged on the entrance; the attendant at the door looked up. "Tickets?"

"Here's mine," Danny offered. "I was just getting popcorn." He held up the box to illustrate.

"No problem, sir. Ma'am, ticket?"

"My date bought my ticket," Anne-Rose told him. Shit, Taylor forgot to get it for me. "He's inside."

The acne-ridden boy – he couldn't have been over seventeen – shook his head stubbornly. "Ma'am, I can't let you in without a stub."

"But we bought our tickets just then," Anne-Rose protested. "I was just going to the bathroom." Oh god, it's all going wrong.

"Sorry, you should bring it out with you," the pimpled adolescent lectured her. "Rules are rules."

"Screw it," Danny told him. "Here, miss. Take mine. I'll buy another one." He passed her his stub; at the last moment, she remembered the engagement ring clutched in her hand, and pressed it into his. His eyebrows hitched up for a second, but he caught on quickly.

"Thank you," she told him feelingly. "Thank you so much." And people wonder why I want to marry him. With her head held high, she stepped past the teenager and down the corridor toward the entry to the cinema proper.

Danny was supposed to guide her back to where her seat was; all she had to go on otherwise was Taylor's 'half way down on the right'. She couldn't see crap through the glasses; pushing them down, she looked over them, walking carefully down the aisle.

"Taylor!" The sharp whisper came from behind her; she turned, and there he was, so she presumed; at least, he was beckoning to her. He was one seat in, just as Taylor had said. Backtracking, she eased herself down into the seat, feeling the dress stretch ever so slightly. Taylor's advice about not inhaling too deeply, she decided immediately, had worth.

"Sorry," she whispered, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. "Got turned around."

"That's okay," he replied. "I was beginning to think you'd ditched me."

"Forgot my ticket," she told him. "Little twerp on the door didn't want to let me back in."

"Is that so?" he asked. "I'll have a word with him when we get out … "

"Leave it," she advised him. "Can we just watch the movie? What've I missed? Who's that?"

"Oh, that's the main character, Steelheart," he explained. "He's just failed to save that bus full of schoolkids. Wasn't strong enough."

"Oh, wow," she murmured. "That's terrible." She picked up what she presumed was her cup and took a sip. It was still cold, but the melting ice had diluted it somewhat, and it was kind of flat. But she drank it anyway, and it helped with her dry throat.

"You're telling me," he replied.

She sipped at her cup again in lieu of an answer, and concentrated on watching the movie over the top of her glasses.

Taylor, hurry back soon. I don't know how long I can keep this up.

-ooo-

Finally locating the glasses, I fitted them on to my face, and the world sprang into focus. I stood in the toilet cubicle, in just my underwear, and the clothes Anne-Rose had been wearing were folded neatly on the toilet seat.

Right then.

The black T-shirt went first; I pulled it on over my head, glasses and all, then pulled the cloth cap down over my head to hide my short hair. After that, the jeans and the sneakers; Anne-Rose had thoughtfully included a belt, which was useful; I was a little narrower in the hips than she was. Over the top of the shirt went a green and white hoodie; I didn't know whether she'd been wearing the hood up or down, but I went with 'down'. After that, I picked up my handbag and slung it back over my shoulder.

Go time.

Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the cubicle door and was just about to open it, when I remembered. Glasses. Anne-Rose hadn't been wearing any when she came in here.

Pulling them off again, I folded and palmed them, then pulled the cubicle open. Two women were washing their hands; as I emerged, they turned to give me what I presumed were speculative looks. Trying not to blush too hard, I headed for where I remembered the door to be; at the last moment, I realised where it really was, turned a little, and yanked it open. Giggles followed me out.

The lobby was blurry, but I could find those doors easily enough, as opposed to the white-doors-on-white-walls in the bathroom. As soon as I was outside, I put the glasses back on, then looked around. Danny's car, Danny's car, Danny's car …

It wasn't anywhere in sight. Beginning to feel the strain once more, I looked around, then headed for the corner. And around the corner, right there, was the car. Old, a little weatherbeaten, it was still one of the most beautiful sights that I'd ever seen. Striding over to where it was parked at the curb, I pulled open the passenger door and got in.

"Well, thank fuck," Gladys told me. "I was beginning to think you'd never get here."

I could have kissed her. I didn't, but I could have. Instead, I let my gratitude pour into my voice. "Thank you so much for helping out at such short notice."

She nodded as I fastened my seatbelt. "Okay, so what's going on here? Andrea called me up, said that Danny would be coming to pick me up, that you needed my help. And now you've come out wearing the same outfit that Anne-Rose wore into the place."

"Yeah, it's kind of a shell game," I explained. "I told you about the cop who wants to date me, right?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Anne-Rose is in there pretending to be you? Why?"

"Can we drive?" I pointed straight ahead. "I'll explain on the way."

-ooo-

"Comfortable?"

Kinsey looked up from where he sat at the table. His ankles were fastened to his chair legs by thick bone bands; around his wrists were more conventional handcuffs. Two men were standing just inside the doorway; one had a stun-gun, while the other had a heavy baton. He really wanted to have some words up close and personal with the man holding the stun gun; it was that which had brought him down in the fight.

But his attention wasn't on that man; it was on Marquis, who was standing in the doorway itself, regarding him with a certain level of detachment.

"So-so," he replied, with a shrug that clanked the cuffs on the table. If he could get hold of a metal strip of some sort, he could pick them, he knew. But the room seemed devoid of handy metal strips. "I've been on worse training courses."

"Good to hear," Marquis replied, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Your Captain hasn't rung back yet. She has to know that time is running out for you."

"She's not going to buckle down to you," Kinsey told him evenly. "You're nothing but a two-bit thug with some powers. I've seen your type before. As soon as you meet some real opposition, you fold like wet tissue paper."

Abruptly, a bone spear had crossed the room, and was pricking at the hollow in the base of Kinsey's throat. Kinsey stopped speaking, stopped breathing. He held himself very still.

"You would do well, Sergeant, to recall to whom you are speaking," Marquis stated, his voice still calm and unhurried. He didn't seem to care about the spear which had erupted from his left shoulder. "I have a certain reputation in this town. If one of my minions fails me, he disappears – utterly. He is never seen or heard of again. The question you need to ask yourself is this; if I do that to my employees, what must I do to my enemies?"

The spear retracted a few inches; Kinsey took that as permission to speak.

"I don't know about your enemies, but I've seen what Captain Snow does to her enemies." The skin around his eyes creased as he surveyed Marquis. "If I know the Captain, you weren't on that list, not until you took me. But now you've jumped on it with both feet. And you are so very, very fucked."

-ooo-

"So wait, you're going up against Marquis?" exclaimed Gladys. "Are you nuts?"

"No," I told her honestly. "Just pissed."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"You're doing it." I gestured at the car. "Driving me to and from."

"And that's it?" She frowned. "You don't want me to shoot anyone?"

"You told me not to call on you for that any more," I reminded her. "So I'm not. Uh, turn left here."

"Oh." She complied with my direction. "Are you sure you don't need help?"

I looked at her. In the dimness, I could make out her set expression. "Uh, are you offering?"

"Shit, I don't know. You're going up against Marquis."

"Lot safer than Allfather or Butcher," I pointed out. "Worst he'll do is humiliate us and kick us out."

"You're certain of that."

"Deadly."

"Oh, I wish you hadn't said it that way."

I shrugged. "Sorry. Pull in here."

She pulled the car into the alley that I had indicated, and stopped; we got out. I put my handbag on the hood of the car, and pulled out my shoulder rig. Removing the hoodie and cap, I strapped on the holster, ensuring that the Glock was secure in it. Then I pulled out a belt and slung it over my other shoulder; even on the last hole, it was never going to fit around my waist. On the belt was another holster, carrying Kinsey's massive .44 calibre hand-cannon.

"Hey, why do you get two pistols?" asked Gladys, sounding hurt.

"The other one's for Kinsey when I find him," I explained. "But here, I brought something along, just in case. You can have it." I tossed it to her; she caught it, opening her hand to reveal an extendible baton.

With a sharp flick of her wrist, she opened it to its full length, then took a couple of practice swipes with it. I could hear the way it hummed through the air. A smile spread across her face, one with lots of teeth in it. "Oh, I like it."

Taking one last item from my bag – Kinsey's favourite clasp-knife – I tucked it into the pocket of Anne-Rose's jeans, then dropped the bag on the front seat, and closed the door. "Well, if you're in, you're in. If you're not, then you can stay with the car."

"You know something?" asked Gladys. "I'm gonna be Vice Principal. Maybe Principal some day. How the hell could I face all those little shits, knowing that I stepped back from something like this? I'm in."

I clasped her hand, then bumped knuckles with her. "Okay. Let's do this thing."

End of Part 4-10