**********

Two days of hard driving and two nights of rough sleeping later found the little group about a half-day’s ride away from the spot Nayim suggested as a rendezvous. They had encountered no one in passing save for a stray goat or two, and though the surrounding countryside was beautiful in a stark, barren way, there were constant reminders of the terrible battles that had exacted such a toll upon the land. The roadside was littered with war debris: supply drums, empty shell casings, burned out field guns. Electrical pylons lay on their sides like fallen giants, the power cables long since harvested for other usage, for electrical power was nonexistent in this part of the land unless generator supplied. Infrastructure of any sort was but a fleeting memory.

The lowlands gave way to higher pastures and steppes, bisected with icy-cold streams supplied by the great mountains to the north. Birat lay somewhere in those hills, waiting. As they had the night before, they’d set up two small pup-sized tents and constructed a tiny fire. It was too much to ask that the willowy tongues of flame do much in the way of generating heat, but it was enough to boil water for tea, cook rice, and warm a bit of spiced beef and mutton.

Becky had watched Kate’s face in the firelight, drinking in the warm glow that emanated from her eyes, the shadows of her cheeks, the hollow of her neck. Though the pilot was physically near, her mind was remote, unresponsive. There hadn’t been much conversation between them at all over the past couple of days, and Becky had told herself that this was simply Kate’s way of focusing, of preparing. She’d watched her companion gradually withdraw and had let it happen; it was all part of the plan, wasn’t it? There were the quiet conversations between Kate and Ahmed; that pistol that Kate carried, and the rifles too. Becky had seen them, and said nothing. She was in Kate’s world now, and there was nothing for it but to simply trust her to do what was right and good.

The alternative was too horrific to contemplate.

And so she’d clung to the thinnest of emotional tethers between herself and Kate; telling herself that it would be enough, yet fearing at the same time that in the darkness where Kate now dwelt, their connection could easily be severed and the pilot would simply slip away.

Then they’d tumbled into their sleeping bags exhausted, Ahmed and Nayim in one tent and Becky and Kate in the other. If the two Muslim men noticed anything… different… about the two women’s relationship, they’d kept it to themselves. Perhaps they were too tired to even care. Exhaustion plagued them all. And it wasn’t over yet. They were to be up at dawn for the last leg of the journey, and from there Kate and Ahmed would strike out on foot for Birat.

By this time tomorrow, Becky thought, gazing up at the green canvas above her, maybe we’ll be on our way back to Duristan, and all this… stuff will be behind us. That’s what she told herself anyway, while at the same time wondering why, if she were so confident, was she was lying here wide awake in this tent, her stomach churning, when she might otherwise have still been sleeping?

Rebecca checked her wristwatch. If Nayim were running true to form, it would be at least another hour before she heard the pots and pans being knocked about in preparation for breakfast. Damn. She took a deep breath of air, feeling the chill that had descended during night, knowing too that part of it came from the distance she felt between herself and her partner. Oh, she’d fallen asleep in Kate’s arms as she always did, marveling at the warmth the dark woman generated even in this far-off place, but there was a barrier between them, just the same.

She wondered if Kate felt it, too.

Her vision had adjusted to the dark, and she rolled over onto her side, her eyes fastening on Kate’s face. Her heart leaped in her chest as it did every time she awoke and saw her like this, which wasn’t often enough; the pilot invariably rose before her. It was always a secret delight of Rebecca’s to see her in repose, her face relaxed and expressionless. Unguarded.

It was insane, she thought dimly, here in the middle of a virtual war zone, but she could not help herself. She reached out and let her hand gently caress Kate’s face, then travel down her throat, along the line of her shoulder, the corded strength of her arm. That touch, that feeling, was something she’d been missing, and desperately craved.

Becky did not turn away when she suddenly found two blue eyes peering at her in the darkness. She silently challenged her lover, knowing she’d won when she saw the flash of amusement in those eyes. For one dizzying moment her world turned topsy-turvy, and then she found herself seated firmly astride Kate’s body. She saw the film of desire that glazed the pilot’s eyes, felt the air rush from her body at the shock of the heat radiating up from the tall woman’s naked skin, for even here in the wilderness she’d insisted on sleeping unencumbered.

Kate’s lips parted and Becky could hear the tempo of her breathing quicken; it matched the pounding of her own heart. She lowered herself down to Kate, stretching free of the clothing

the pilot’s expert hands quickly removed from her, relishing in the electrifying contact of skin upon skin. Their mouths met in a slow, lingering kiss that nearly made Becky’s heart catch in her throat, so thrilled was she at this tangible affirmation that her bond with Kate remained everything she’d told herself it was, and more. She wanted to laugh and weep at the same time, for the sheer joy of it.

The sleeping giant had awakened, and Becky felt the intensity of the kiss change, deepen, even as powerful hands roamed over her body, teasing her, driving her to distraction, and then finally possessing her like none had ever before. Kate was everything she’d ever wanted in a lover, body and soul, always giving, and never taking but what was freely offered.

Their passion set the air within the tent on fire; there was a furnace of energy and heat rising from their bodies. The heady scent of their perspiration mingled with the earthy aroma of the ground beneath them and the bittersweet fragrance of dying apple blossoms carried in on the wind from a distant meadow. Becky rolled back on top of Kate, letting her full weight rest upon her body. The pilot’s damp skin clung to hers, and she felt long arms tightly wrap themselves around her smaller form. She returned the embrace, holding on for dear life as she thrust toward climax, kissing the silent woman beneath her with her mouth open as she came, crying out Kate’s name.

Becky stayed on top of her, panting, feeling the tension drain away from her own body with that release. Eyes closed, she wanted to stay right where she was forever; warm, safe. She was helpless to stave off the sleepiness that soon followed the outpouring of emotion she’d experienced and the passion that accompanied it. And still, Kate’s hands continued to roam of their own accord all over her body, holding, stroking, finding her most sensitive places. As their breathing slowed and their hearts steadied, Becky took confidence and strength from the arms that held her fast. And as her eyes slipped shut, as she drifted off to the sleep that worry had previously denied her, she released her vow into the faint glow of the light before dawn.

"I love you, Kate. And I always will."

She didn’t need to see the pilot’s face as she spoke the words, didn’t require any sort of response. The fact that they were here, together, and connected in this most intimate of ways, was enough.

**********

For about the tenth time in as many minutes, Rebecca Hanson checked her watch and looked nervously to the north. Give them 12 hours, Kate had said. Okay. So that meant they had 11 ½ left. Plenty of time, right? It was the not knowing that was killing her. She’d known that they couldn’t risk any communication device where El-Yousef’s people could pick up the transmissions, but God! What she wouldn’t give for a cell phone right now!

"Please, Miss Becky," Nayim glanced up from where he sat on a low rock, making much needed repairs to his pakol, a woolen hat favored by many of the former mujahideen. "Don’t be a bundle of nerves, yes?" He grinned at her as he threaded a needle through his hat. "You will wear yourself out in no time flat. And then where will you be when your friend returns? No use, I say. You will be of no use to anyone!"

"I know," Becky slumped against the rocky overhang which partially obscured their jeep from prying eyes. "I’m sorry. I… I can’t help it, I guess." She sighed heavily and crossed her arms, gazing out in the direction she’d last seen Kate and Ahmed. They’d set out in late afternoon, each bearing light backpacks and armed with Kalashnikovs, hoping to make most of the distance to the hills outside Birat before darkness firmly took hold. The going would be rough: in staying off the main road they’d have to traverse rocky plains and narrow gorges, all the way to Birat itself. Then, it would simply be a matter of watching, waiting, and striking.

Nayim took pity on the young blonde. He had seen back in Duristan how much the thought of being left behind had pained her; knew as well as she did that the odds of this mission succeeding were low at best. But fighting the odds was something Nayim Ceru understood well: whether it was the guerrilla warfare against the hated Russian invaders, or the struggle from within to overthrow the despised demagoguery of the Taliban. One had to try… to have hope. Without that, what point was there in living? Now, the pieces in the final act of this play were set in motion. All he and the girl could do was bide their time and stay out of sight. But that didn’t mean they had to go stir crazy in the process.

"Something to eat, Miss Becky?" He put the pakol aside and reached for his backpack.

"No… I’m not hungry, thanks."

"Would you like to read?"

"Have you got something with you?" Becky turned hopeful eyes upon the little Muslim.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. I thought you might have…."

"Well, I don’t." Becky tried to keep the nervous irritation out of her voice. She knew the trader was only trying to help.

"I don’t suppose…." Once more Nayim reached for his backpack. "It is forbidden of course, but I have always been tempted by that which is denied to me…." He rummaged around in his sack, at last proudly producing a battered deck of cards. "Do you know how to play?"

Becky’s eyes widened at the sight. "Do I!" She sidled up to the trader and plucked the cards from his hand. She plopped down next to him, pushing up the sleeves of her robe. "We’re going to play the most exciting, thrilling card game I know. It requires great skill, cunning, and nerves of steel."

"Are we going to play poker?" Nayim was fairly quivering with delight at the prospect of playing the forbidden game.

"No," Becky’s green eyes narrowed in the late afternoon sunlight. "Let me tell you about a little game I like to call… ‘Go Fish.’"

**********

"That’s Birat, over there," Ahmed pointed to the northwest. There, shimmering like a mirage against a horizon that was a blazing palette of purple, rose, and gold, was their objective. "We’d better stay here and wait for full dark before we try to draw any closer, don’t you think?"

"Agreed," Kate said, watching the young Kosovar sit down heavily on a graded hillside and pop open a canteen of water. They’d pushed themselves hard, crossing the open, hardscrabble ground between the rendezvous point and Birat, taking care to swing wide and approach the terrorist stronghold from the southeast. Along the way, they’d had to avoid any of El-Yousef’s patrols, of which they’d seen several, as well as watch for hidden land mines. The mines were particularly worrisome; they’d had to keep a sharp eye out for telltale signs: small stone piles, craters marking areas of prior explosions – while at the same time struggle to keep their footing while crossing the difficult terrain.

The patrols were of less concern; they seemed to be operating routinely and sticking to the main road leading to and from Birat. The pilot and Ahmed had steered clear of the road, taking care to keep it always at least a kilometer or two to their west.

"Drink?"

"Thanks." Kate accepted the canteen. She took several deep drafts before handing it back to Ahmed. She sat down next to him, catching her breath and stretching out her legs. She ran the arm of her robe across her forehead, in a vain effort to remove some of the perspiration that had formed there. This damn thing! She looked down at her now-soiled tunic, fighting the overwhelming urge she had to rid herself of the native attire she wore on top of her khakis. Gritting her teeth, she resisted, knowing how important it was to maintain at least some semblance of disguise, lest they be spotted from a distance.

"So, how long has it been since you were here last?" Kate asked, opening her backpack and pulling out the battered pair of Russian field glasses that Nayim had supplied her with.

"Oh, about a year and a half, I think." Ahmed leaned back on his elbows, fixing his eyes on the last flickers of sunlight disappearing beneath the horizon. "Though it seems a lifetime ago."

"I wonder how much the layout has changed since then." Kate peered through the binoculars, bringing Birat into focus. The village itself looked like a more modern version of Duristan: concrete block houses replaced mud and straw; there were more vehicles on the street than camels and horse-drawn carts. The glow of lighting began to shine through some of the windows; generator powered, Kate surmised, all this a result of El-Yousef’s well-laundered funds pouring into the village. People roamed the dust-clogged streets; women with their faces covered, men fully bearded, and there were children too, occasionally pulling along goats with bells about their necks. Kate could almost hear the thin jingling sound of them on the early evening breeze.

To all outward appearances, Birat was a typical Afghan village, if a bit more prosperous looking than most. But it was the blight at the edge of the village that drew Kate’s attention: El-Yousef’s compound. There had to be at least 40 tents, outbuildings, a drilling field, trucks, and a munitions depot, not to mention the armed, uniformed men crawling throughout the encampment. And, of particular interest to Kate, was a well-worn trail that led out from facility and up into the hills. Somewhere, in the rocky gray-brown hillside, lay the communications center: her ultimate objective.

"Let me have a look," Ahmed crawled next to her.

Kate handed him the binoculars.

"No…." he said, bringing the village into focus, "it looks pretty much the same as I remember it. And why would the ‘Chosen One’ worry about such things? This is his adopted home. The villagers are his followers now, selling their identities for full bellies, a warm hearth and a cold rifle. He feels safe here," Ahmed lowered the glasses and turned to Kate, "and that will be his downfall."

"I’m counting on it," Kate replied, and she began to shove the glasses back into her bag.

"Catherine…."

Something in Ahmed’s tone gave her pause, tugged at something deep inside of her, and she raised her head in time to catch the haunted, haggard look that had no right to be on the face of one so young.

"I… I want to thank you for… for letting me come along. For giving me the opportunity to make good on… what I’ve done."

"I think you’ve got it the wrong way around," Kate said quickly, earnestly. "We couldn’t do this without you, Ahmed."

"I wonder," he said, gazing off into the horizon, "if even this will be enough. The debt I owe is so great. I’ve hurt so many—" he rubbed at his eye with his knuckle. "I hear them at night, you know. The spirits of those I’ve wronged. They demand justice."

"What’s past is past. There’s nothing you can do about it now, no matter how much you may want to," Kate said, understanding this truth so well herself. "The important thing is, that you regret what you’ve done, and you’re trying to make it right. Just think of the people whose lives will be saved because of the work we do here!"

"I know." Ahmed picked up a loose stone and tossed it down the hillside, watching it loosen other small pebbles along the way and raise gentle puffs of dust in its wake. "But I wonder… will it be enough?" He lifted his head to Kate and captured her in a stare that reached into her very soul. "Justice… will have its day."

Kate silently nodded, feeling his pain and knowing there was nothing she could do about it. The young scientist had made more than his share of mistakes, and had gotten himself caught up in something bigger than he ever could have possibly imagined. Had stumbled into a world where his science was used on behalf of terrorism, with frightful consequences. It was not her place to judge him, although somehow she suspected there was no sentence any court could have rendered that was worse than the misery he’d imposed upon himself.

"Ssssh!" Kate suddenly cocked her head, listening. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" Ahmed’s demeanor instantly changed, and he stiffened, recovering himself. "What is it?"

The pilot turned towards the south, as the distant thump-thump-thump drew closer. "A helicopter," she said grimly, gulping back the fear that inexplicably gripped her. It was flying from the direction of the rendezvous. "Take cover."

**********

"Jack of diamonds." Nayim looked warily over his hand of cards towards the young blonde sitting opposite him.

Rebecca carefully examined the few cards she held, before answering. "Go fish," she said at last, her voice as hard as her stare.

Nayim sighed, and plucked a fresh card up from the pool. He shook his head. The new card did him no good.

"All right," Becky purred evilly. She took a sip of the tea that Nayim had prepared for them both, and licked her lips. "Three of clubs."

"Three of clubs," Nayim repeated, scanning his hand. He gave Rebecca a baleful glare. "Three of clubs." Reluctantly, he pulled the card from his hand and flung it towards his opponent. "There! I hope you two will be very happy together!"

"Oh, we will! Us… and our little friends, here." Triumphantly, she laid down the complete set of four ‘three’ cards, emptying her hand. "I win again!"

"Damn!" Nayim swore, then remembered himself. "You’ll pardon me for that, Miss Becky. But this is a most challenging game, this ‘Go Fish.’" He began gathering the cards up. "We play again."

"Are you sure?" Becky asked dubiously. "That makes it ten games to nothing."

"No, no, no!" Nayim waved her off. "One more game, please. I think I am just getting the hang of it! Then," he grinned devilishly at her, "you wait and see how I will simply demolish my brother, Masud! He will stand no chance!"

"Oh, I see!" Becky chuckled, reaching for a refill from a teapot that had clearly seen better days.

"Wait!" Nayim’s hand shot out, stilling Rebecca’s. "Listen!" The tension was plain in his voice.

"Wha—" Becky fell silent, her hears straining, and then she heard it. A distant thumping sound. "Why, that sounds like—"

"Helicopter!" Nayim bolted to his feet, the cards spilling from his hand. He frantically kicked dirt onto the small fire, trying to extinguish it.

"Here!" Becky tossed the remaining liquid from the teapot onto the flames, and with a sputtering sizzle, the fire gave up its last.

"Quick… take cover under that ledge!" Grabbing their backpacks and bedrolls, Nayim directed them both towards the rocky overhang that partially concealed the jeep. "Get down!" he cried, pressing Becky low against the ground.

The helicopter had to be right over them now, buzzing like an angry bumblebee that would not abandon its prize flower.

"Stay perfectly still!" Nayim’s voice hissed in her ear.

Becky was worried now. They hadn’t seen anyone in two days. It should have been safe to build the small fire, even if they were only 10 kilometers outside of Birat.

Or maybe not.

"Do you think he spotted us?"

Nayim tightened his hold on her. "I’m not sure…."

Suddenly, the ground in front of them seemed to pucker and writhe, kicking up a furious line of dirt and dust that reminded Becky of a fast-approaching hailstorm. But this was no hail.

Rat-a-tat-a-tat-tat-tat!

Becky screamed.

**********

Darkness had descended upon Birat like an old blanket, snug and providing adequate cover in some areas, thin and threadbare in others. The village itself was tucking in for the evening, the household sounds diminishing and the lights winking out. But Kate noted with some consternation that the area surrounding the compound was still fairly well illuminated.

They had crept closer to the stronghold after the helicopter had passed them by, and now they were positioned in a small depression on a rocky incline that ran all the way down to the edge of the camp. Staying low, they would be invisible to any eyes scanning the hills from below. But their position afforded them a good view of El-Yousef’s complex, and was adjacent to the hillside where Ahmed said the communications post lay hidden in a cave.

Kate checked her watch. "Still too damn much activity," she said. Soldiers remained in plain sight within the camp; tinkering with vehicles, casually conversing, moving up and down the hillside from the communications post. One large tent, centrally located, had much activity centered around it; Kate suspected it had to be El-Yousef’s. A large generator was visible at the rear of it, and the tent fairly glowed from within, humming with an incandescent energy all its own. The bastard’s in there, Kate sighed, I know it. She tightened her grip on the rifle by her side. Taking out El-Yousef wasn’t part of the mission, she knew. But if he happened to get in the way, well, that would be his misfortune.

"We’ve got time, Catherine," Ahmed said. "We can afford to be patient."

"I know. But we’ve got to be on the move and out of here by 0300hrs if we want to make the rendezvous."

"No problem." Ahmed’s white teeth flashed in the darkness. "I won’t be a minute, once I get my hands on his computers."

"I’ll hold you to that," Kate returned the smile. "Hey – here comes another patrol."

Sure enough, snaking its way towards the camp on the main road was another miniature convoy. An armored personnel carrier, a couple of Russian-made trucks with machine guns mounted in the rear and….

"Fuck!"

Kate grabbed the binoculars from her bag, knowing they wouldn’t do much good in the dark. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of night-vision glasses! Instead, she willed the patrol towards the yellow-white glow of artificial lighting bathing the central area of the compound. If they would just head there!

They did. The little convoy motored down the main thoroughfare of the camp. And with that, Kate had her worst fear realized. A broken-down, covered jeep chugged along behind one of the trucks.

"Is that--?" Ahmed’s voice, strained in the darkness.

"I think so."

She’s gotta be okay. She will be fine.

Soldiers tumbled out of the vehicles, laughing and slapping one another on the back. From the jeep, three soldiers emerged, dragging a woman behind them. Her hands were tied at the wrist behind her. She wore a green-trimmed shalwar kameez, spattered with darkened stains. Blood! One of the soldiers shoved her from behind; she stumbled and nearly fell. But it was enough to dislodge the scarf from her head, revealing short, blonde locks.

"Oh God, it’s Rebecca," Kate groaned, feeling her stomach do a flip-flop.

"What in Allah’s name could have happened?"

"I don’t know." Kate struggled to get a grip on her emotions as she watched her partner being roughly escorted to a tent at the edge of the camp. "Maybe the chopper spotted them. Or maybe the patrol… if we’d only known they ranged that far out of Birat!" Her heart sank. No! Stop it! This is not the time for second-guessing. Focus!

Surrounded by soldiers, Rebecca walked with her head held high. She turned her dirtied, tear streaked face towards the hills. Kate’s heart lurched when she saw the eyes she knew so well seem to scan the terrain in the darkness; lost, searching.

I’m here! Kate wanted to cry out, to reassure her. But the words died in her throat.

A hand on her arm. "Is there any sign of Nayim?"

The pilot tracked the binoculars back to the convoy, watching the soldiers for long minutes as they stowed their gear and powered down the vehicles. "No," she said at last. "I don’t see him."

Ahmed sat back against the side of the ravine, his palms resting on his thighs. He looked as though the air had been blown out of him. "Well, perhaps he’s still out there. He got away, somehow."

Kate turned moist blue eyes to the distraught scientist. "Do you really think he would’ve left Rebecca alone?"

Ahmed stared at Kate for a long moment and said nothing; his silence was the only answer he could give. Finally, his shoulders sagged, as he resigned himself to the implication of the pilot’s words. He pulled up his knees to his chin, and rested his forehead against a fist he’d propped against his kneecap. "What do we do, now?" he asked, his voice muffled, trembling.

"Good question."

Well, the mission was fucked. Nothing new about that, Kate thought, she’d been in such tight spots before. But now… God, what Rebecca must be going through at this moment! She had to get her out of there! And yet, rescuing the girl would surely raise an alarm. They would have no shot of getting to the cave undetected. The objective of the mission would be lost.

Damn. Kate sat back on her heels. It had all come to this. To travel all this way, to have made so many sacrifices, to be this close to the goal! Getting El-Yousef. Bringing him down. Destroying him. He was her obsession. The fire that fueled her. A cold-blooded killer who had no right to a life on this earth. She had wanted to personally dispatch him to hell, she could admit that to herself now.

She looked up at the stars above, just beginning to flicker in the evening sky, and breathed in deeply. On the air she could taste the pungent tang of the ancient earth that surrounded her; timeless, enduring. She was vaguely aware of Ahmed next to her, his dark eyes fixed upon her, expectantly. He would do whatever she ordered, there was no doubt of that now.

This was her mission, as it had always been. Ahmed had simply been another tool she’d used to bring her closer to her goal, but she would have gotten here eventually, one way or another, she was sure of that. Zeroing in on her target like a smart-bomb, maneuvering her way through the twists and turns of the chase until – blam! – mission accomplished.

Kate released a deep, shuddering breath, letting it go, letting it all go. The choices were clear. She could compromise the communications post and destroy El-Yousef, possibly saving countless live in the bargain. Or she could rescue the frightened young blonde in the tent down below, one who’d gotten herself involved in an operation where she had no place being.

It wasn’t even close.

Kate shouldered her rifle and tilted her head towards the compound. "We’ve got to get down there."

**********

Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut against the images that kept playing before her mind like a bad movie. The helicopter swooping down on them. The bullets flying. A scream – her own – so loud and so long that it had only ceased when she’d run out of air. And then she was frozen, unable to breathe at all, and had simply huddled there, waiting to die. Nayim had thrown himself next to her, trying to press her as far under the rocky ledge as he could. He was shouting at her… something, but she could not hear him for the whining sound of the helicopter, and the blinding whirlwind kicked up by the rotor blades.

Eventually, the firing stopped and the helicopter set down. And then there was a new sound… motor engines. Wheels grinding against gravel. Feet hitting the ground and running. Shouts. The sound of firearms being slapped into hands.

"Nayim, we’ve got to get out of here!" She’d found her voice at last, choking against the bitter dirt that filled her nose and mouth, blinking back the tears that streamed from her eyes as she struggled to regain her vision. "Nayim!"

But the trader had not answered her.

More shouts, and suddenly she’d felt the weight of him roughly removed from her. She’d been pulled to her feet, coughing, wheezing, and when her vision finally cleared, she’d wished to God that it hadn’t. Half a dozen rifles, pointed at her. A man in fatigues standing scant inches from her, his deeply lined face twisted in fury, screaming demands in her face in a language she had no hope of understanding.

And then there was Nayim. Lying on the ground amidst the scattered deck of cards, staring sightlessly at the sky through broken spectacles.

She’d felt herself go numb as they tied her hands and threw her in the back of the jeep; she’d allowed it to happen, welcoming the numbness. Anything was better than embracing the reality in which she now found herself. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. None of it was real. But the scene played on, as indelible upon her consciousness as the blood, Nayim’s blood, which stained her tunic.

"I ask you again, what were you doing out there? Where were you coming from?"

They’d figured out fairly quickly what with her blonde hair and green eyes that she wasn’t a native, and once they’d gotten her back to Birat they’d produced a soldier who spoke passable English to question her. But he kept on asking her the same questions, over and over, getting angrier buy the minute. Well, that was his problem. She would never tell him the truth.

"I—I was just looking around."

"Liar!"

She never saw it coming. He slapped her, hard, and as her head snapped sideways she nearly fell.

"You are a SPY!" the soldier roared, taking a threatening step towards her.

Becky flinched, hating herself for it, and wondered for perhaps the thousandth time since she’d been captured where Kate was, and was she safe. She’d seen no sign of the pilot and Ahmed since she’d been brought in, nor had her captors mentioned having any other prisoners. So that meant that perhaps there was still a chance that the mission could succeed. And the mission was all that mattered now. Perhaps she could keep these terrorists distracted down here, while Kate and Ahmed got in and out of the communications center. I can still help, the flight attendant thought, and she made the decision to focus on that objective. She had to try. For Kate.

"No! You’ve got it wrong! I – I’m a writer. Working on a story." Becky thought fast. "I want to… to let the world know of the troubles of the Afghan people."

"You lie!" The solider raised his arm as if to strike again.

"Enough!" A deep voice sounded behind her.

"But Rashid! She is lying, can’t you see?"

"I said enough, Mazar!" the man said, stepping forward from the shadows, his hand moving to the pistol he wore at his side.

Becky twisted her body slightly to see a tall, bearded man standing there, wearing fatigues and a turban. His eyes were dark, like his skin, and in another life Becky might have found him attractive.

"I’ll take over from here," he said smoothly, pushing the soldier back on his heels, away from Becky.

"Sorry about that." He offered her a cold smile. "Now. You will tell me please. Who was the man traveling with you?"

"He… he was my guide."

"Guide? From where?"

"From… Jalalabad, I think," Becky answered, worrying that Nayim’s family might be at risk if she divulged the correct information. "My… my editors set up the deal."

"Well… ‘writer,’" he smiled again, "what is it that you will you tell your readers about our troubles?"

The man spoke perfect school-boy English, Becky had to give him that, and as he stepped slowly around her, looking her up and down, she noticed with a sinking feeling that he had her backpack in his hand. Well, there was nothing for it but to play out the string.

"I- I would tell them that war has torn this land apart," she stammered, shifting the position of her arms slightly to relieve the pressure of the rope digging into her wrists. "But there are good people here, people who are suffering terrible hardships now, but who are willing to work together to bring about a peace."

"Interesting," he said, pausing for a moment as if to consider her words. "Well," he shrugged, ‘I am from Saudi Arabia, actually, so I can’t say I really give a damn about all of that rot. But I find it curious," he reached into her backpack and pulled out her wallet, "that you say you are a writer, but your identification indicates you are in the employ of Orbis Airlines."

Rashid tossed the wallet onto a table in the middle of the tent. It landed with a dull thunk, flopping open and displaying Becky’s smiling Orbis photo ID.

"Oh, that," Becky said faintly, feeling her head starting to spin.

Rashid dropped all pretense at civility, and his features turned to stone. Omar had told him of his little misadventures in Paris with the woman before him. He knew well the risk she posed to the cause. She and her colleague, that irksome pilot.

"You can talk to me, Miss Rebecca Hanson," Rashid stepped closer to her, his dark eyes glittering, "or you can speak with the Chosen One. And I can assure you, the latter would be most unpleasant."

**********

"Okay," Ahmed pressed his back against a storage crate, his voice a breathless whisper. "I don’t think we can get any closer Catherine, and not be detected."

"She’s still got to be in that tent," Kate said in a low rumble. "We haven’t seen anyone leave for quite a while." The pilot checked her watch: nearly 2400hrs. Fighting every instinct in her body that had told her to charge down into the camp and free Rebecca, she’d forced herself to stay with Ahmed up in the hills and wait until activity below decreased. As the compound had quieted down, she and Ahmed had crept closer, until now they were in some sort of storage area facing the tent where the flight attendant was being held.

"The communications center is right up there," Ahmed pointed to a spot about halfway up the hillside behind them, "and there’s a series of camouflaged satellite dishes on the top." A dusty path trailed upwards towards the post, and from their vantage point the entrance to the cave was visible as a slight change in coloration from the rocky ground surrounding it. "They’ve got blackout curtains shielding it. If you didn’t know it was there—"

"You wouldn’t," Kate finished for him, gazing wistfully at her one-time objective. "Okay." She sucked in a deep breath and returned her attention to the rescue at hand. "Same plan of attack, different target. I want to get in and out of here, undetected. And if we can get a hold of one of their vehicles," she bobbed her head towards where a number of jeeps and trucks were parked, just off the main camp road, "so much the better."

"But that guard doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere," Ahmed cast a glance towards the armed soldier standing outside the tent. "And there are at least two more men inside the tent." The young scientist’s dark eyes tracked back to Kate. "What do we do?"

Kate rubbed the back of her neck, thinking, her hand sliding on the perspiration there despite the coolness of the night. "I don’t want to wait any longer," she said flatly, not letting her mind consider what might be happening to Rebecca inside that tent. "We’re going in."

Foot traffic in the camp was nearly nonexistent, and had been for the last hour or so. Clearly, as Ahmed had suggested earlier, El-Yousef and his people felt that the barren land around Birat held no threat to them. Oh, there were guards posted at the main entrance to the camp at the village’s edge, and several soldiers walked patrol routes through the compound at intervals that Kate had already timed. But she’d seen military installations on heightened states of alert plenty of times before, and this base was not one of them.

"Well, we can’t just walk in there!" Ahmed hissed in the darkness, his eyes flashing.

"Oh, yeah?" The pilot gave him a sly tilt of her head. "Why not?"

**********

Malik Haqqani restlessly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and tried to get his mind off his growling stomach. It had been hours since dinner, and his relief was late. For the love of Allah, where was he? Malik’s mouth watered uncontrollably as he thought of making a quick detour by the cook-tent on his way back to the barracks for the night. His past midnight forays there had always proven successful, and he saw no reason why this night should be any different. Some apricots, cheese, a bit of the lamb left over from the evening meal – all washed down with goat’s milk. He’d get away with it again; that lazy cook, Pahlawan, was never any the wiser.

Malik peered down the dirt road of the camp; still no relief man. And no one about that he could ask to go fetch him. Malik toyed with the idea of leaving his post – what harm would it do, really – but thought the better of it, knowing that Rashid was still inside. Past experience had told him that crossing the Chosen One’s right-hand-man, might cost him the loss of his own hand, or worse. No, better to wait until Rashid or that wretched lieutenant of his, Mazar, came out. They’d been in there for some hours, questioning the girl, and from time to time Malik had heard voices raised. Several times, he’d heard the woman cry out. He couldn’t speak English so he couldn’t be certain of what was being said, but he knew that one way or the other, Rashid would get what he wanted out of the prisoner. He always did.

Malik sighed, turning his gaze up to the star-less night. He sniffed at the air, catching on it the faint hint of distant rain. The chill told him that the fall season was on its way, and with that the rains and snow would not be far behind. Hmnn… perhaps, if there was still a cook fire burning, he would heat the goat’s milk, instead.

"Hey! You there!"

At first, Malik thought it was his relief. But the soldier approaching him looked more like one of the armed volunteers from Birat, dressed as he was in an Afghan man’s tunic, vest, and turban. And he spoke in the native Dari, rather than the language of the Chosen One and his closest advisors.

The soldier was not alone.

"We’ve got another one here for you!" He had his rifle pointed at a new prisoner, another woman. She was tall, taller than any female Malik had ever seen. Her hands were tied off at the wrist, and her features were properly covered by her burqa. All Malik could see were two eyes flashing at him in the darkness. For a brief moment he felt fear at the wrath of the woman’s stare, but he chased that away by tightening his grip on his AK47. He and his fellow soldier were more than enough to handle this woman. And once Rashid and Mazar got their hands on her, well, that would be that.

"Always room for one more," Malik replied, laughing at his own joke. Perhaps he could get this fellow to hunt down his relief for him or, better yet, take over.

"You can have her." The soldier gave his prisoner a rough shove, and she fell to the ground in a heap.

Malik chuckled at the woman’s distress, and the soldier’s laughter joined in. He walked over to her, and gave her a nudge with his boot. "Clumsy, are we? Come on. Get up, before I lose my patience with you." Malik turned to the soldier, grinning. He seemed like a good sort. "Listen," he began, "I wonder if you wouldn’t do me a favor." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the prisoner struggling to her feet. "I’ve been waiting for my relief to—"

A crack! sounded in his ears, and Malik dully realized that something hard had made contact with his own skull. As the darkness descended upon him, his hunger pangs were forgotten.

**********

"Be right back," Kate whispered, looking furtively up and down the deserted compound. Ahmed took up watch at the tent as though he were the guard, and the pilot quickly dragged the unconscious soldier back behind the storage crates where they’d been hiding. There, she gagged him and bound him securely with the rope that had been loosely tied around her own wrists. So far so good, she thought, grabbing the rifle she’d left there. Now they would have to move quickly. Once they’d gotten Rebecca free, she wasn’t sure how long a prison tent with no guards would remain unnoticed.

Glancing both ways up and down the compound, she crossed over to where Ahmed stood guard. "Okay," she said tightly. "Same deal. You bring me in as your prisoner. That should give us a few seconds to figure out who’s who, before the surprise wears off. Got it?"

"Got it," Ahmed said hoarsely, his eyes wild in the night.

"Listen," Kate put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Don’t fire your weapon unless you absolutely have to, okay?"

The young scientist gulped, and nodded in the affirmative.

"Good." Kate slid her rifle inside her shalwar kameez, and pressed her wrists together as though they were bound. It would do. All she needed was a second or two, at most. "Let’s go."

She burst through the tent flap, giving the illusion of having been shoved. Ahmed was hard on her heels, babbling something, she knew, about her being his prisoner.

Kate’s eyes scanned the interior like twin laser beams, instantly locating Rebecca. The young woman was sitting in a chair in the middle of the tent, her back facing her, her head bowed. Guards…. There were only two that she could locate. A tall man, bearded, standing right next to the flight attendant, his hand raised as if to strike her.

And another man, shorter, with ferret-like eyes, leaning casually against a nearby table, apparently enjoying the show.

The pilot instantly concluded that the bigger man presented the most imminent danger, at least as far as Rebecca was concerned, and so she continued her tumble directly into him, taking him off his feet. Ferret-man leaped forward, alarmed, and from the corner of her eye Kate saw Ahmed slip next to him, lifting the butt-end of his rifle towards the back of his head.

Kate pushed off from the big man, and in one smooth motion swept her rifle free from her robes and regained her balance. The man was furious. His dark eyes fastened upon her, shouting something unintelligible that the pilot could only discern was not a pleasant greeting. His turban askew, the big man clawed for the pistol at his side, freeing it from his holster.

"Move, and she dies!" He screeched in English at last, and began to pivot on his back towards Rebecca. But before he’d even completed the sentence, Kate had anticipated his move and was on him, her scarf fallen away from her head, towering above him like a dark avenger.

"I don’t think so," she growled, bringing the stock of her rifle down hard across his jaw. The big man slumped to the ground, blood flowing freely from his mouth. Kate kicked the pistol clear, and turned to confirm that Ahmed had indeed taken out his target. Ferret-man lay sprawled face-down in the dirt. Well. That all came back to you easily enough.

Drawing in a deep, hitching breath, only then did Kate fully focus her attention on Rebecca Hanson. She’d dared not do so before, for fear that what she might find would distract her from securing the tent. Her heart pounding, she dropped to her knees in front of Rebecca. The young woman hadn’t moved during the fracas, and now Kate could see why. She removed a knife from the sheath she had in her boot, and cut the girl's arms free from where they'd been tied behind the chair.

"Are you okay?" Kate’s shaking hands worked their way over Rebecca’s body, pressing, feeling, more to assure herself that her partner was here in front of her now, alive and breathing.

"I… I’m fine, Kate." Small hands found the pilot’s face and lifted it so that green eyes might gaze into blue. "Really."

But the young blonde didn’t look fine. Blood spattered the left side of her tunic, and the dirt that marred her features did not fully conceal the telltale signs of abuse: a slightly swollen lower lip, bruising on her cheek and along the line of her jaw.

"What happened?" The grief that swept through Kate at the punishment Becky had endured was quickly followed by a simmering rage. "Who did this?!"

"The… the blood’s not mine, Kate." Becky grabbed Kate’s hands and held them.

"It’s Nayim’s." Ahmed’s voice sounded tonelessly.

"Yes." She lowered her head, biting back the tears. "It happened so fast. One minute we were laughing and talking, and the next minute there was this helicopter… he-- he tried to save me and--" She began to cry.

"Ssssh!" Kate opened her arms and let Rebecca fall into them. "There’s nothing you could have done," she soothed, gently stroking the blonde head.

"I… I guess I know that," Becky said, drawing in a deep quaking breath and pulling away. "But that doesn’t make it any easier. I keep thinking of his wife… his children…."

"He knew the risks," Kate said, thumbing away a tear from Rebecca’s bruised cheek. "We all did. And do. But right now…" she swung her eyes quickly around the tent, "we’ve got to get moving." She gave Becky’s arm a squeeze. "Think you can make it?"

"Sure," the smaller woman gamely replied, allowing the pilot to help her to her feet. "Kate," she grimaced as she began to limp towards the door on the taller woman’s arm, feeling the circulation return to her aching limbs, "did you and Ahmed get everything you needed?"

"No."

"What do you mean, ‘no’?" Becky stopped moving, forcing Kate to do the same.

"No, meaning we didn’t get into the communications post." Kate refused to look Becky in the eye, instead busying herself with her rifle, re-shouldering it. "C’mon, now." She started forward again.

"Wait just one minute, Captain Phillips!"

Kate drew up short at the anger in her companion’s voice, and the sense of steely authority, too. The pilot turned on her heel to find herself assaulted by two blazing green eyes.

"Why didn’t you get into the cave?" Becky demanded, fearing she already knew the answer. "Was there a problem?"

"Rebecca," Kate sighed, "We couldn’t get into the communications post without raising some sort of alarm eventually, and the same could be said for busting in here." She waved a hand at the prone figures of Rashid and Mazar. "There was a choice to be made, and I made it. Now come on, let’s go."

"No!" Becky stood her ground, her chest heaving. "You can’t Kate! What about the mission? All those people out there whose lives depend on us!"

"If we don’t get out of here now," Kate said grimly, "we’re not getting out at all. Tell her, Ahmed."

"It’s true, Miss Rebecca," the Kosovar admitted. "It would take too much time… someone would come looking." He shook his face sadly. "Maybe I can think of another way—"

"No," Becky repeated. "There is no other way. You said so yourself." She turned back to Kate and gripped her tightly by the arms. "Please, Kate. You’ve got to try. Please!"

"I—I can’t," the pilot got out in a choked voice. God, if Rebecca only knew how much she wanted to. But she couldn’t risk it. Her own life meant nothing to her. But Rebecca’s… that was her everything.

"Kate, you’ve got to do this thing. You’ve just got to!" Becky bored her eyes into Kate’s searching for some spark there of the woman who’d told her so many times that she was committed to bringing down El-Yousef – no matter what. "Otherwise," she continued, "All this will have been for nothing. All the sacrifices we’ve made. The lives that have been lost."

"Rebecca, I—"

"For God’s sake, Kate," Becky’s voice was raw, "what do you think I’ve been spending all night here, doing? Besides getting slapped around and lying through my teeth about what I was doing here?"

"I- I don’t—"

"I’ll tell you." The flight attendant swallowed hard, struggling to maintain her composure. "All I could think about, was that no matter what was happening to me, you and Ahmed still had a chance to complete the mission and get away. That you’d make it."

"What?" Kate felt as though she’d been punched in the gut, so astounded was she by Becky's revelation. "Rebecca," she said softly, despairingly, "You couldn’t think that I’d just… just leave you here."

"You made a choice for the both of us, Kate," Becky said, feeling the dark haired woman’s pain rip through her like a jagged knife. But she would not back down. There was too much at stake. "It’s one that I don’t happen to agree with."

Catherine Phillips fell silent, considering Rebecca’s words. Once again, she’d somehow blundered her way into underestimating the inner strength of her partner. And broken all her own rules in the bargain. There were always choices to be made in life, and always options. You just had to want to find them badly enough. Hell, she’d spent the better part of her life finding ways to do the impossible, to come up with solutions others had been blind to. And yet… when she’d been confronted with the thought of Rebecca being in danger, instantly she’d made it an either-or decision. Had never considered that there might be other alternatives, ones that could have saved both Rebecca and the mission. Instead, she had zeroed in on getting Rebecca out of there – to the exclusion of all else.

She should have trusted in herself more. And trusted in Rebecca, most of all. "You and me… we’re enough to see this thing through, Rebecca. Believe in that, like I do. Okay?" How her own words mocked her now.

The pilot straightened her back. "You’re right," she said, releasing a shaky breath. "We’re not leaving here without making a try for the communications post." She turned to Ahmed. "You okay with that?"

The young Muslim smiled thinly, but his eyes shone with renewed hope. "I’m with you."

Kate swung back to Rebecca, rubbing a hand up and down the younger woman’s arm. "How about you? Are you with me?" Kate gravely inquired, realizing this had to be her decision as well.

Moist emerald eyes sparkled up at her, and through the dirt, blood, and bruises, a smile lit Becky’s face. "I never left you."

Kate felt a tightness in her throat, preventing her from responding. Instead, she simply gave her friend’s arm a final squeeze, and began to step towards the tent door.

She never made it.

At the same instant a terrible roar sounded through the camp, the earth began to violently undulate beneath their feet. She grabbed for Rebecca, finding instead only thin air. A concussive shock wave rocked through them, knocking them to the ground like bowling pins.

The bombardment’s begun, Kate thought dizzily, trying to unscramble her brain cells. We’re too fucking late.

**********

Within moments, the sleepy terrorist camp at Birat had turned into a scene of smoking, burning chaos.

"What’s happening?" Becky gasped, creeping next to Kate at the tent’s entrance.

"It’s the missile strike," the pilot replied, coughing. "Tomahawk cruise missiles, I’d guess," the pilot cast an eye towards flaming streaks illuminating the night sky like lighting. "Probably launched from ships in the Persian Gulf."

Panic fueled the response of El-Yousef’s people. In the confusion and mayhem they were firing anything and everything they could into the air, futilely hoping to intercept the enemy barrage: rocket propelled grenades, hand-held mortar launchers, and even lighter small arms. Kate saw soldiers throwing the tarps off two truck-mounted anti-aircraft guns. And of more concern to her were the ‘Stingers’ she saw several teams of men scrambling to activate - the lightly armored, highly effective, shoulder fired surface to air missiles. They wouldn’t do much good against the Tomahawks. But when they fell back to earth after failing to hit a target – ouch. The pilot didn’t want to be around for that result.

"Ahmed, grab those extra AK47s," Kate barked, willing to trade her single action rifle for the more sophisticated automatic firepower of the guards they’d overcome. "We’ve got to get ready to make a break for it." She had half considered bailing out again when the barrage had begun, but the fact of the matter was that the attack now provided them with the best cover they could have possibly hoped for. "And let’s get rid of these." Kate shrugged off her shalwar kameez, happy to be free of the damned thing, and she helped Rebecca to do the same. She could tell by the younger woman’s haste that she was not sorry to discard the bloodied garment. Now the two women wore only their khaki pants, shirts, and jackets. In the confusion, they’d draw less attention to themselves dressed as ersatz men as opposed to native women.

But that blonde hair of Rebecca’s…. "Here," Kate said, grabbing Rashid’s turban from the floor and tugging it down over Becky’s head, grinning. It would have to do.

"Ugh!" Becky turned up her nose distastefully. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," the pilot firmly replied. "Besides," her eyes twinkled, "it suits you."

"Here you go," Ahmed joined them, bearing a total of three AK47s. He gave one to Kate and kept one for himself, offering the third to Rebecca.

"No thanks," she blanched, holding up her palms even as another explosion rocked the camp. "I— I’ll just stick close to you guys," she grabbed her backpack from the floor where Rashid had tossed it, and slid it over her shoulder. "If you don’t mind, that is."

"We don’t," Kate told her, understanding that Rebecca’s peaceful nature and an assault weapon did not go hand-in-hand. "Okay," she eyed her two companions carefully. "Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re just gonna charge up that hillside, telling everyone we see that… the Chosen One wants everyone to… to meet him at his headquarters immediately for new orders. Same thing when we hit the communications post, plus telling ‘em that the missiles will be targeting them. The Chosen One wants everyone out, and down here." Kate looked at Ahmed carefully. "Can you handle that?"

"Yes," Ahmed swallowed hard, but his voice was steady.

"Good." Kate flashed them a jaunty, confident smile. "Then let’s go."

The air was full of sounds as they stepped out of the tent, all thunder and crackling like a violent electrical storm. Kate felt a tingling at the back of her neck, an excitement in her belly that flamed her drive as nothing else did. The mission was on, and she was ready.

As she’d expected, the frantic soldiers racing about the compound had little time for them; their command structure had obviously broken down. Other tents and buildings were down or in flames, and Birat itself was in trouble from what Kate could see; smoke rose ominously from several locations in the middle of the village. Well, there was no time to worry about that now. "Lead the way!" Kate shouted at Ahmed, and he took off towards the path. Becky followed, with Kate bringing up the rear. The path was well traveled and the going would not normally have been difficult. But the impact of the missile strikes shook the ground like angry earthquakes, causing them to occasionally loose their footing. Debris rained through the air; shrapnel, rock, spent bullets, and a smoky haze made vision and breathing difficult.

"Keep it moving!" Kate cried out, anxious to get under cover.

"We’re almost there," Ahmed spared a quick glance over his shoulder, making sure his companions were still with him.

Kate looked up, her eyes scanning the hillside in the darkness, trying to penetrate the murk. Suddenly, out of the gloom, a large form appeared. "Ahmed – watch it!" she shouted, but she needn’t have sounded the warning. One of El-Yousef’s soldiers barreled down the pathway from the cave, obviously running for his life. He didn’t challenge them as he scrambled past, not daring to look them in the eye. The man was obviously on a self-serving mission of his own.

"That’s one less we have to worry about," Kate laughed without humor, gasping as her eyes watered in the acrid smoke.

They clambered up the path, their harsh breathing drowned out by the whistling screams of the incoming Tomahawks and the explosive sounds of anti-aircraft guns firing off in angry protest, like so many Fourth of July fireworks.

"Aaah!’ Becky stumbled on the loose gravel but Kate was there to catch her, prodding her along.

And then they were there, bursting through the blackout curtain into the communications center. There were six soldiers that Kate could see, turning to face the new arrivals with startled, uneasy looks. Clearly, they were frightened, and Ahmed’s agitated shouting did little to alleviate their fears.

"Quickly! Quickly!" he cried at them in Dari. "The bombs are coming this way! Out! Out! You must leave immediately! The Chosen One has commanded!" For emphasis, he swung his AK47 towards the entrance. "Now, you fools! Run for your lives!"

Four of the soldiers didn’t need to be told twice. They fell over themselves as they pushed for the entrance. The fifth soldier hesitated. Then, another bomb hit nearby, shaking a fine cloud of dust down upon them from the cave’s ceiling, and he scrambled after his comrades.

The last soldier, probably the officer in charge, was not as easily persuaded. Kate could hear him questioning Ahmed, and she saw that the young scientist was becoming increasingly flustered. Finally, the terrorist gestured towards her and Rebecca, and reached for a 2-way radio on his desk.

"Un-uh," the pilot mumbled, quickly closing the distance between herself and the soldier. She knocked the radio out of his hand with a forearm chop, and gave him a solid taste of the butt of her AK47. "Nighty-night." The man grunted and slid, unconscious, onto the paneled floor of the cave.

"Okay – you two get going!" Kate jogged to the doorway to stand watch. "We don’t have much time."

"We’re on it," Becky replied, her face a mask of concentration. She followed Ahmed to a central computer console and the two of them began working.

Kate crouched down in the entranceway, leaned back against the cool rock wall, and slightly parted the curtain with the barrel of her AK47. Now she had a clear view of the pandemonium on the ground. The bombing was getting more intense, she could tell that much. Those damn suits in Washington must have a helluva lot to prove, she thought bitterly.

The flames lit the camp nearly as bright as day, and with some dismay Kate saw that the vehicle depot had taken a direct hit. Many of the other jeeps and trucks throughout the encampment were already disabled. The closest usable vehicle as far as she could see was a supply truck parked about halfway through the compound. Even in all that mayhem, it would be a difficult run, getting there undetected. They could always just slip back into the desert, but the pilot didn’t really like those odds. Particularly considering what a rough time she and Ahmed had had just walking those last nine or ten kilometers to Birat. But…. Kate’s blue eyes narrowed as she detected another transportation option.

"How’s it coming?" She called over her shoulder. Becky and Ahmed were working furiously at the computers, the tap-tap of their fingers on the keyboards mingling with their softly murmuring voices.

"It’s coming," Becky tightly replied, not lifting her head. "But we need more time."

"We might not have it," Kate muttered, letting her eyes travel around the interior of the cave. Ahmed had been right; this was some installation. The dust that had clouded the air earlier had already been cleared, thanks to the climate and ventilating system. There was enough computer hardware about to make the place the closest thing to a geek heaven that the pilot had ever seen. And at the rear of the cave she saw piles of ominously marked crates that she was certain contained Stinger missiles and mortars rather than hard drives and printers. With that kind of firepower stored up here, it’s only a matter of time before…. She glanced back down the hill.

"We’ve got company," Kate yelled over the pounding bombardment. She stiffened her back against the cave wall. Scrabbling up the hillside were half a dozen heavily armed soldiers, their AK47s brandished directly at the post’s entrance.

Fuck! There were too damn many of them. She couldn’t take them out one-by-one as she and Ahmed had handled the guards earlier. And there was no goddamned way that she was letting them get inside this cave. Not with Rebecca here. Kate’s mind worked furiously, examining and discarding a multitude of options, until her instincts and training drove her to the only one that made any sense. She hated it just the same.

She let them come closer… closer…. Suddenly the lead soldier shouted something and pointed at the entrance. Double fuck! She’d been spotted. And in that same instant, her finger squeezed the trigger of her assault rifle. The first three terrorists went down like dominoes. Kate tucked and rolled away from the cave’s entrance, drawing the fire of the remaining soldiers as she went. She smacked hard into the face of a rock about 10 meters from the mouth of the cave, one that helped obscure the entrance from below. Wincing as its sharp edges dug into her side, from her prone position she returned the enemy fire, and she saw two more men tumble backwards and slide bonelessly down the hill.

Now… where was that last bastard? Kate edged forward on her elbows, moving back towards the cave, but she kept her eyes peeled downhill. In the dark and smoke it was difficult to see. The sounds of the bombardment fizzled away. There was shouting coming from within the cave, but Kate couldn’t make it out. She knew at least that no one had gotten past her. There was nothing but the hammering of her heart, her finger poised upon the trigger, and the heat and metallic stink rising up from her recently discharged weapon.

To the pilot the whole scene had a unearthly feel to it; then, at that moment, she inhabited that world which straddles the line between what is in this plane of existence and the next; where people move about like ghostly ships in an impenetrable mist, searching, but not finding. Was she a mere witness to their passing? Or had she, too, become one of them? She continued her belly crawl, angling her course to take her towards another rocky outcropping on the far side of the path. Something told her….

She saw the barrel of his rifle before she actually saw him. It slipped above the rocks like the head of a Cobra, sniffing at the air. She flung herself violently to her right, firing, just as she saw the flash and heard the rat-a-tat-tat of his AK47. She heard his cry and the dry clattering sound of his rifle hitting the rocky ground, and then nothing.

"Kate! Oh, God, Kate!"

More shouts, coming behind her now. Who was that? And who were they calling for? Dimly, she realized that she in fact was Kate. And that the person yelling was—

"God, Kate, are you okay?" Hands on the back of her shoulders, rolling her over.

"Uh… yeah, Rebecca?" Kate edged herself up on her elbows, shaking her head as if to clear it. "I- I’m fine," she told herself, gazing up into two concerned green eyes. "Just got one hell of a headache."

"No wonder," the flight attendant said shakily, reaching a hand out to touch an angry red gash that streaked along the pilot’s left temple. "You’ve been shot."

"Ow!" Kate flinched, slapping away Becky’s blood-covered fingertips. "It’s just a scratch." She fought to get her breathing under control, to focus. Now was not the time fade out.

"Scratch, my ass, Kate!" Becky objected, watching the pilot push herself to her feet.

The pilot smiled engagingly. "Okay. Maybe later." Ignoring Rebecca’s pained groan, she grabbed her rifle and nodded at the bodies littering the hillside. "There will be more of them on the way, I’m sure of it."

The ground around them rocked again with another close impact. "C’mon," Kate grabbed Becky by the elbow. "We’ve got to get going."

"Ahmed was just about done," Becky said, coughing, as they darted back into the cave.

"Ahmed is done!" Standing behind the main console, sporting a grin that ran from ear-to-ear, the young man held up a handful of discs. "Encryption codes, contacts, bank accounts, business interests, operations sites, satellite feeds – it’s all here!"

The news did more for Kate than a deep lungful of the clean air inside the cave ever could have. "Thank God." The pilot squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, fighting off the annoying buzzing in her head. "That was some work, Ahmed," Kate took the discs and placed them carefully into a small pouch at her waist.

"I had help," his voice was relieved, exultant. "Wonderful help, isn’t that right, Becky?"

"We’re a team," the tired blonde grinned. "Now," she turned to the tall, dark woman next to her as another explosion rattled the cave, and lightly touched her arm. "How do we get out of here?"

Kate’s eyes glittered. "Follow me."

**********

The air around them was alive, a living, breathing thing, screaming its misery into the night. Explosions sounded in every direction, pummeling the heaving earth like hot, furious fists.

"Go! Go! Go!" Kate shouted hoarsely as they stumbled down the hillside, feet moving, always moving, until they reached the edge of the compound.

"What now?" Becky’s eyes were wide as silver dollars as they slid to a stop behind a jumble of crates.

"El-Yousef’s helicopter." Kate sucked in a choking breath of air. "It’s on the far side of that storage building." The pilot nodded towards a structure opposite them. Flames shot out from its roof and the windows had been blown out.

"Are you sure that’s a good idea?" Rebecca turned a sweat and soot-streaked face from the blazing compound to the pilot.

"I don’t much like the alternatives," Kate grimly replied, throwing an arm around her companion and ducking as another explosion ripped through the camp. "We’ll have to make a break for it. Just keep your heads down and keep moving. Don’t stop until you get to the chopper, okay? And leave the rest to me."

Ahmed ran a hand over his thin face, tugging at his beard. "Then what?" His voice was strained. "Can you fly helicopters?"

"Depends on who you ask," Kate gave the young scientist a lopsided grin. "But I think I can handle it."

"I know you can," Becky let her eyes rest evenly on her partner, reaching a hand out to squeeze her shoulder. "After you."

A renewed surge of energy pulsed through the pilot, blowing away the throbbing ache in her skull and the exhaustion that dogged her limbs. If Rebecca Hanson believed in her, then anything was possible. "Okay. What we’ll do is—fuck!"

"What is it, Kate?" A stab of fear lanced through Rebecca at the alarm she heard in her partner’s tone.

"The damn chopper," Kate swore, and now Becky could hear the whump-whump-whump of its rotor blades firing up. "It’s getting ready to take off."

Cursing, Kate looked both ways up and down the compound. El-Yousef’s people looked otherwise engaged in desperately trying to extinguish fires, and in shooting their rifles and mortars angrily at the sky towards the enemy that plagued them from above. "Across the compound," Kate instructed, her face set in fierce determination. "Behind the building – to the chopper. On three."

"One!" Kate held up a finger.

"Two!" She pulled her Kalashnikov to her chest.

Before ‘three’ had left her mouth, the dark haired woman burst from behind the crates and began sprinting across the compound, laying down a screen of covering fire as she went. Becky followed, leaping from their hiding place, with Ahmed trailing behind.

They cleared the compound and skittered past the burning storage building. Hot embers rained down upon them, and thick, black smoke obscured their vision. But they kept moving, like planes flying in formation, each person focused only on the individual in front of them, leading each other through the clouds until – there it was. The helicopter sat like a fattened duck in a clearing just in front of them.

A pilot was in the cockpit, throttling up the chopper. So far, he was oblivious to the presence of three bloodied, dirty, slightly scorched trespassers.

Take out the pilot. It was Kate’s only thought as she motioned her group forward; it was their sole chance for survival now. She moved across the rocky earth, her eyes locked on the helicopter, uncaring of the bombardment that stormed around her. Of the tracer bullets that lit the night sky like an angry swarm of insects.

Suddenly, a great roar sounded to their rear. The storage building. It’s been hit again, Kate guessed. "Get down!" she cried, knowing Becky and Ahmed could not hear her. She started to dive as the air exploded around her, and then a rolling wall of sizzling heat slammed into her from behind, and she felt her feet leave the ground.

The earth bucked beneath her, like an indignant bronco trying to throw its rider, and she did her best to shield herself from the wood and rock and concrete chunks that whirled through the air as though whipped by an unseen cyclone.

Finally, the wave passed, and Kate blinked open her eyes, coughing. By God, the chopper was still in one piece. It was a Sud Alouette, she could now tell by the looks of it. God bless the French. The pilot’s eyes were on her, his mouth in an open ‘oh’ as he caught sight of her. Startled, he lunged for the throttle.

No. Goddammit, NO! She pushed herself to her feet, every bone in her body shrieking at the abuse. A quick glance behind her showed that Ahmed was next to Rebecca, helping her up. They looked okay, and Kate breathed a silent prayer of thanks at that, but she knew that none of it would matter soon if she didn’t get her hands on that chopper. Spitting out the dirt and soot that was gagging her, she began to stagger towards the cockpit.

Faster and faster the helicopter blades rotated, kicking up a painful whirlwind of dust and debris. Kate could tell by the whine of the turbine engine that it would only be a matter of seconds until the pilot generated enough lift for take off. She pushed her body forward, calling upon her last reserves of energy, reaching for that dark, competitive part of herself that was unwilling… unable to accept defeat.

She saw the pilot’s eyes widen, saw the anger and fear in his eyes, and she flung herself through the open door, batting his hands away from the control column. She felt his knee come up and strike her middle, forcing the air out of her, but that pain only fueled her more. She grabbed him by the collar of his jacket with one hand, and with the other launched a roundhouse punch to his jaw, knocking him out cold.

"Not today, pal," she gasped, feeling the burning in her gut as she took in a wheezing breath of air.

She roughly grabbed the pilot’s body and tossed him out onto the rocky ground with an ‘oomph.’ "Let’s get going!" she called to Rebecca and Ahmed, seeing them pushing closer to the helicopter, heads down. The flames of the burning storage building danced behind them, driven by the wind of the aircraft’s rotors.

Oh God, Noooo! Silhouetted against the inferno a tall, dark form moved. Kate grabbed for her AK47 and realized with a sinking feeling, that it wasn’t there. She’d dropped it in the explosion, and she saw it now, lying on the ground outside the helicopter, useless.

A flash of light as an exterior wall sighed and collapsed in on itself, and Kate could see his face then, twisted in fury, bent on revenge. Rashid.

"Rebecca!" she desperately cried out, her heart leaping into her throat, choking her. She reached for the pistol she’d stuffed into her jacket, cursing, knowing she would not be in time. Rashid’s weapon glittered in the firelight, pointing directly at the young blonde who slowly turned, following Catherine’s wild-eyed gaze to her killer.

I love you, Kate! Was all Becky could think. There was nothing else, not the Tomahawk missiles sailing overhead, not the hell burning around her, not the smoke stinging her eyes and cutting off her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, conjuring up an image of her lover, wanting that to be her last conscious thought. She heard Rashid’s pistol fire, at the same instant an unseen force slammed into her, driving her to the ground. I wonder if this is what death feels like? And then she heard more shots, coming from the helicopter, this time.

Feet, pounding on the ground, drawing closer. Hands on her body. Holding. Caressing. "Rebecca… oh, God! Talk to me, baby! Please!"

Interesting, Becky curiously thought. I suppose I’m not dead after all. She blinked open her eyes to see the tear-streaked face of Catherine Phillips looming just above her.

"Thank God," Kate said, sagging back on her heels. She took a steadying breath. "You okay?"

"F- fine, I think!" Becky rubbed her right shoulder that had taken much of the impact. "What happened?"

"Ahmed happened," Kate said sadly, moving to the young Kosovar’s side. He lay sprawled on his back, his breath coming in a series of rapid, shallow gasps.

Kate had nearly gone insane when she’d seen Rashid take aim at Rebecca. But before she’d been able to draw her own weapon, Ahmed had detected the danger, and thrown himself in front of Becky, shoving her out of the way. And, in the process, taken the bullet meant for her. Kate had seen the look of triumph denied on Rashid’s face, and as he’d turned his gun to her, the pilot had been only too happy to cut him down. The fucking bastard. She’d torn out of the idling helicopter, holding her breath until she’d seen two green eyes flutter open at her.

"Ahmed, no!" Becky sobbed, crawling next to the young man and grabbing his hand. With her other she pressed down on the gaping wound in his chest. His soft gray vest and white shirt were soaked through with blood, dark and glistening wet in the light of the flames.

"Do something, Kate, please! Help him!"

"I – I can’t," Kate choked out, hating herself for saying that, and wishing more than anything that it were not true.

"We… we’ll get him on the helicopter. Get him back to Duristan. They’ll help him there." Becky’s fervent hopes tugged at Kate’s heart, devastating her, knowing as she did that the young man would probably not even be able to make it to the chopper alive, let alone a friendly village.

She opened her mouth to respond, when she felt a weak touch on her wrist.

"Leave me…." Ahmed rasped, his thin face gone pale in the firelight.

"No," Becky insisted. "We’ll get you out of here."

"There’s no… no time. GO," he said more firmly, his dark eyes flashing defiantly.

Kate sighed heavily, knowing Ahmed was right. At any moment, more of El-Yousef’s men might show. "We’ll never forget you." She paused, feeling her throat constrict at the thought of what she’d nearly lost but for the young scientist’s heroic act. "And from the bottom of my heart," she said, her voice catching, "I thank you."

A smile spread across Ahmed’s face, and Kate was amazed to see the anguish and the pain bleed away, freeing him. "My… my debt is paid," he said, fastening his eyes onto Kate’s. She forced a smile to her own face, and nodded.

"In full," she assured him, and she kept her gaze upon him as the light in his eyes went dark.

**********

God, she hated what this was doing to Rebecca. Hated every goddamned minute of it. She knew it had been the girl’s choice to be with her here, in this place. But not here. Someone like Rebecca… she should never have to witness such violence, such destruction as she had this day, let alone bear the burden of seeing two friends killed.

If Kate could have taken all of the young blonde’s pain, all her suffering, and borne it on her own shoulders, she gladly would have done so. After all, she was damaged goods already. What difference would a few more dents and bruises make?

But there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it… about any of it. Not about Nayim and Ahmed, not about Rebecca’s grief, and not about her own personal obsession that had driven them all to this godforsaken place to begin with. It was too late for regret, for recrimination. The time for that had passed. The only thing she could do, or even felt she was capable of doing at this point, was to make sure she got Rebecca, herself, and those damned discs onto that Alouette and the hell out of Afghanistan.

Kate grabbed her fallen AK47, and then turned to pull Rebecca to her feet. "We’ve got to move."

Becky bit her lip and nodded. Numbly, she collected her backpack and shouldered it, choosing to leave behind her fallen turban. Kate didn’t argue.

They dashed towards the chopper, ignoring the missiles that continued to fall, striking more towards Birat and further west, now. That would at least give them better odds during lift-off, the pilot thought. Kate pushed Becky quickly into the cockpit and then hopped in after her, securing their safety harnesses.

Okay…. Kate quickly scanned the controls of the French-made helicopter. No time for a standard pre-flight, she thought grimly, as the sound of rifle fire seemed to close in upon them. She’d never flown an Alouette before, but she knew that they weren’t necessarily the speediest or the most maneuverable craft in their class. Still, this bird had been retrofitted with a sideways firing 20mm cannon, so how bad could it all be?

"Kate!"

The pilot lifted her head to see several of El-Yousef’s men turn the corner of the decimated storage building, weapons drawn.

"We’re outta here," Kate seized the throttle. The chopper jerked fitfully like an elevator starting to move, and then they were off, gaining altitude before swooping away towards the blackened southwest.

"Shit!"

Bullets pinged an insistent beat against the hull, tapping like tiny hailstones, and not for the first time in her life did Kate reflect on the many reasons why she infinitely preferred the power and speed of her fixed-wing F15s and F16s, as opposed to these lumbering birds. She stayed relatively low to the ground, hoping to avoid not only the incoming Tomahawks, but also any of El-Yousef’s wild mortar or Stinger fire.

As the blazing terrorist stronghold began to retreat into the distance, Kate allowed herself a steadying breath. "Damn," she shouted over the whine of the rotating blades, "that was close!" She turned to her companion, but Becky said nothing, simply staring straight ahead into the inky darkness, her bruised, tear-streaked face lit by the greenish glow of the instrument panel.

They’d made it, the pilot thought, but at what cost? She began wiggling and wagging some of the controls, getting her feel for the chopper. It wasn’t a bad machine, not really, and it appeared as though it had been fairly well maintained. And if the gauges were accurate, they might just have enough fuel to get them to a safe harbor. Kate coughed, ridding herself of some of that horrid grit and ash that had threatened to choke her. She settled down in her seat for the ride back, and idly wondered if Rebecca had anything for the headache she had - no thanks to the damn bullet that had creased her thick noggin.

There was no way she could have seen the Arab man with dark, dead eyes, staring with a blazing fury at the winking lights of the Alouette as it whirled away from the camp. He was surrounded by overly zealous guards, taking care to shield him from any falling debris. Standing in the smoking, empty space that had once housed his personal helicopter, the Chosen One angrily shoved his lackeys aside.

"Out of my way," he cried, and his men stumbled over themselves in order to comply. He fell to his knees next to a still form lying on the rocky ground. Long, manicured fingers reached out to touch a body already grown cold, despite the flames from the storage building burning nearby.

"Rashid!" he sobbed quietly, mourning the loss of his confidant, his lieutenant, his friend. How dare they! The Infidels! To come into his house, to destroy his property, to hurt his people! They would pay. All of them, he would make them pay! With a roar of outrage sounding from deep within the bowels of his blackened soul, Abbado El-Yousef rose to his feet. He thrust his arm outwards, pointing towards the horizon, his robes billowing in the swirling winds, standing like a living, breathing messenger of death himself. "Destroy them!"

**********

Tiny, illuminated dots began bleeping at Kate from her radar display, demanding her attention. Way too low to be any of the Tomahawks she’d been keeping an eye on, and too damn high to be any of El-Yousef’s rocket-fired mortars. Her pulse quickened, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her belly, she realized what they were.

"Stingers," Kate declared with a low intensity. "El-Yousef’s trying to shoot us down."

"Can we get out of the way?" Becky looked over her shoulder, as if attempting to spot the missiles in the darkness.

"I can try, but it doesn’t look good."

"What?" Green eyes flew open wide with alarm.

"Brace yourself!" Kate stiffened. She could see on radar the Stingers zooming in on them. At least three or four, streaking towards the Alouette. Maybe if they’d been farther away from the compound, or had had a chance to gain more altitude. But flying as close to the ground as she had been, limited the pilot’s options. There wasn’t enough time, not enough space, to maneuver her way out of it.

"Damn!" Kate swore, watching the bleeping Stingers converging in on their target.

Too close to the rocky earth below, she tried for more speed, abruptly pulling up. She knew it was a dangerous move and she risked a stall, but the alternative was even less attractive. The rotors screamed and the engines whined and huffed against the abuse thrust upon them. Kate’s mouth went as dry as the barren earth beneath her, and she feared her pounding heart might burst through her chest. Maintaining a death grip on the control column, she worked the rudder pedals furiously and, for half a second, believed she had gotten clear; the fox desperately trying to elude the hounds.

Until a grinding, metallic explosion hit the rear of the chopper. A hard, hot slap that wrenched Kate’s hands from the controls and sent the Alouette skidding across the sky. The pilot thought she heard Rebecca scream, but she couldn’t be sure; her own eardrums were close to bursting from the sound of the blast.

The chopper began to vibrate and roll to the left. Not a fucking stall! Kate tried to recover, cutting back the power and reducing airspeed, but nothing would respond. They were spinning out of control, heading for the ground. What is it with me and helicopters? she thought testily. She blew out her RPMs to the maximum allowable limit and pounded the hell out of her pedal trim, to no avail. Still, she would not give up.

If I could just coax a little more lift out of this thing…. But when the turbine engine sputtered and died, she realized that too was no longer an option. Now there was just the whoosh of the air blasting through the damaged chopper, and they were going down, down in a free-fall, like some godly hand had simply reached out and dropped them from the sky.

The last thing she remembered was throwing her right arm across Rebecca’s middle, as though that small, pathetic gesture would be enough to keep them both alive.

**********

Rebecca Hanson’s anguished ascent back towards consciousness was not a gentle one. She felt prodded, poked. Rather than fighting it, she ran towards it, embracing it, fully understanding that by doing so there would only be more pain, more fear. It was precisely the fear that drove her most of all; the uncertainty, the not knowing of it. No matter what it cost, no matter how much it hurt, she had to know.

"Kate…." The name tore from her lips as she struggled to orient herself. Dirt, there was that, and something vaguely minty smelling, or was that catnip? "Ugh!" She pushed herself up to a half sitting position, from wherever ‘down’ was, which happened to be a stand of low scrub brush. What the—

She reached a hand to her forehead, and felt the beginnings of a good-sized swelling there. Wonderful, she thought dizzily, it’ll go great with my cuts and bruises. She took in a deep breath of air, desperately trying to clear the fogginess from her mind.

It was then she smelled the smoke.

An alarm sounded inside the young blonde. "Kate!" she yelled, at last putting the pieces together. The missiles, the hit they’d taken. They were going to crash, she’d known that, and braced herself, felt Kate’s strong arm holding her fast. And then….

"Oh God!" She swiveled around, ignoring the aching pull in her lower back, and saw the helicopter. It lay crumpled on the ground like a broken child’s toy. Orange and red flames licked at the rear of it; the front cockpit area had accordioned in on itself upon impact.

"Kate!" she cried again, panic seizing her. She got shakily to her feet, and had to mentally walk herself through the process as she forced one foot forward after the other, moving towards the aircraft. "Kate, please! Answer me!" She cast frantic eyes around the harsh, lunar-like landscape, pleading with whatever gods might be listening that Kate, too, had been thrown clear. But there was no answer, no sign of her, and an immutable life force continued to propel the flight attendant towards the burning fuselage. Realization struck her like a sharp blow to the gut; she knew what she would find there.

"No!" Becky groaned, breaking out into a shambling run.

The heat from the flames was intense as she drew close, stinging her, but she paid it no heed. For there in the cockpit, slumped over the controls, was Catherine Phillips.

"C’mon, Kate!" Becky boosted herself over the side of the awkwardly pitched chopper. "Wake up! We gotta go!" But Kate did not move.

The safety harness that had failed Becky had only partially disengaged on the pilot’s seat. The shoulder harness was detached, but Kate was still belted in at the waist.

"C’mon!" Becky gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her back, away from the control column, and it was all she could do to keep from crying out. Kate’s dark hair and face were streaked with blood, and now the smaller woman could see that her right leg, from the knee down, had gone through the floorboards of the helicopter. Jagged and torn metal, sparking wires, and shattered glass were all that remained of the front console area.

"Kate!" Becky took her face in her hands, slapping her lightly, peering closely at her closed eyes. Kate’s head simply lolled to one side, unresponsive.

"Okay. I… I’ve got to get you out of here." Becky swallowed hard, ignoring the tearing of her eyes. Whether it was from the smoke and heat, or from her worry over Kate, she cared not. She crawled further into the cockpit, wincing as a sharp piece of the twisted control column stabbed at her arm. "Sorry!" she gasped, reaching over Kate and trying to release the belting mechanism.

She pulled and pushed, but it refused to snap free.

"Dammit!" she cursed in frustration. "Now’s a hell of a time to be doing your job!" Her eyes scanned the cockpit in a panic. My backpack! There it was, still intact. Crying out in relief, she grabbed at it, pulling out the Swiss Army knife that she always carried with her when traveling.

"See! I told you," she coughed, "that this would come in handy!" She threw the pack clear, and began cutting Kate free. "Like I’ve always told you, Kate, you can’t be too prepared." With a final slashing cut, the belt fell away.

"Okay," Becky snapped the knife shut. "I’ll have you out of here in a jiffy!" She returned her attention to Kate’s trapped leg, pulling away at the metal surrounding it as best she could. She worried that she was doing her partner further damage, but she had no other choice, not now. The smoke was so thick and black that she felt as though she and Kate were lost in a storm cloud. And the heat… Becky did not spare a moment to look behind her to see how close the flames were. Frankly, it didn’t much matter. She would stay here as long as it took to get Kate out. Or… or whatever.

"Now, you’re gonna have to work with me here, big stuff!" She edged as far behind Kate as she could, giving herself the best leverage possible in the shattered cockpit. Working her arms under Kate’s shoulders, she took in a choking breath. "Since you like count-offs so much, that’s what we’re going to do. We’re gonna go on three." She paused, her eyes tracking to Kate’s slack, bloodied face. "Together, okay? Because I’m not going anywhere without you, you got that?"

She swabbed the tears out of her eyes with her shoulders, and then began counting.

"One!" She pulled Kate sideways from her seat, and she cringed inwardly as her mangled leg came into full view.

"Two!" Panting, she slid the pilot towards the door. But angle the chopper rested at was steep, and Becky was working against gravity now, her muscles straining.

"Three!" she cried, lunging for the wrecked exit with all her might, hoping it would be enough.

It wasn’t.

"Oh God!" She slipped backwards into the cockpit. Kate’s body was lodged half in and half out of the door, and Becky’s strength had reached its limits. The flames had to be almost upon them now; she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck curling and burning, surely she must be on fire. She was breathing, but not getting any air. Her booted feet still pedaled, looking for traction that wasn’t there.

No! She thought stubbornly. It will not end like this!

"Did you hear me, Captain Phillips?" Becky gathered herself for one final attempt. "I said ‘three,’ goddammit!" And with that she surged for the door, dragging Kate along with her. Felt nothing but thin air for a millisecond, and then hit the ground with a bone-jarring crunch. The pilot collapsed next to her.

"Okay… okay…." Becky kept up a constant patter of conversation to herself as she weakly got to her knees, her feet, and then began to haul Kate’s battered body away from the burning helicopter.

"If this thing blows now, Kate," Becky laughed hoarsely, "then we’ll know for sure this really wasn’t our day!"

It was a graceless operation but effective. She maintained a grip on Kate’s upper body while dragging her torso and legs behind. The pilot’s boots left twin tracks on the dusty ground like two snails snaking their way along, marking their path as they passed by. Becky stumbled, falling back onto her rear more than once, each time apologizing to her conspicuously quiet passenger for any discomfort she might have caused.

Finally, they had pulled clear enough of the flaming wreckage to satisfy Rebecca. Her arms shaking with the effort, she gently lowered Kate down, and dropped onto the ground next to her. She let her eyes run up and down her lover’s still form, realizing she had to find the strength now to do what before she had resisted, simply because she hadn’t felt herself capable of dealing with the potential consequence.

"Please Kate, please!" A soft whimper. Becky reached a trembling, burned hand to the pilot’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Her heart fluttered; at first she could detect nothing. And then… there it was. Faint, thready, but there just the same.

"Oh," Becky closed her eyes and allowed herself to release the breath that she’d been holding. Basked in a relief that washed over her parched spirit like a rainstorm in the desert. She stared out into the dying flames of the crashed helicopter, the fuselage fully consumed now. How they had both survived that… Becky shuddered uncontrollably in the night chill. She turned back towards Kate, and brushed back the matted hair from her face, gone all shadowed and dark in the flickering light.

And so still.

What do I do now Kate, huh?

Rebecca Hanson had never felt so helpless.

But with the barely discernible rise and fall of Kate’s chest she knew the pilot was alive, at least. Well, it was a place to start.

"Thank you, God." She lowered her head into her hands and began to cry, acutely aware that no one, not on this earth, anyway, would hear her. "Thank you."

**********

The black horizon to the east gradually turned a deep, oceanic blue, and when subtle touches of rose and gold began to glow at that place where the mountainous land met the sky, Becky’s heart gladdened. She knew that dawn would not be far off. And with that new daylight, perhaps there would be hope. Or, at a minimum, an end to this interminable night.

It had taken some long moments after the crash for Becky to get a grip on herself, to calm herself down. Her breath had wanted to hitch, her heart to pound, but she wouldn’t let them. She had a job to do: Kate needed her. And she could not… would not, let her down.

Once she’d been able to focus on that, her Orbis Airlines first aid training had quickly kicked into gear. That, and a little bit of the Girl Scouts, too. Do what you could, with what you had. She’d cleaned Kate up as best she could, given the circumstances, and cut a spare shirt from her backpack into bandage strips. Kate’s leg was her main concern. If it was broken, she couldn’t tell. But it was bleeding profusely, the skin on it shredded and torn, and so she’d used her belt as a makeshift tourniquet, tying the limb off above the knee. The cuts on the pilot’s face and scalp had bled a lot but were shallow, and Becky guessed that these had been most likely caused by the shattering glass of the cockpit. There were a few burns, too, but there was little Becky could do for them, other than to try and keep them clean. If there were any more hidden injuries to be dealt with, they would have to wait until Kate could speak for herself.

And I hope that’s soon. Becky sighed and turned a bleary eye to the northeast. Birat, or what was left of it, still cast an eerie orange light into the sky, the only sign of the town that Becky knew to be there. Kate had managed to get them some kilometers away from the compound before… well… they were stopped, and the flight attendant hoped that El-Yousef and his people had bigger problems on their hands this early morning than chasing after a helicopter they’d blasted out of the sky.

What now, Becky-girl? She ran her hands up and down her shirt-sleeved arms, warming herself. She’d given Kate her field jacket as a sort of blanket, and some bit of heat did still radiate from the skeletal, metallic frame of the burned out Alouette. But Catherine Phillips, she who had always sported an internal engine that revved degrees higher than anyone else’s – was cold. Her face was so pale under the cuts and bruising… her skin so cool and clammy - and getting worse.

A number of dark thoughts bobbed to the surface of Becky’s mind, but she forcefully pushed them aside. Sure, they were in a jam right now. But they would get out of it. They always did. And Kate would be there, right with her, every step of the way. Well, maybe there wouldn’t be a whole lot of stepping on Kate’s part. Becky let her eyes fall on her eyes on her partner’s wrecked leg. She’d been able to slow the bleeding but not entirely stop it, and that wasn’t a good sign. She raked a hand through her blonde hair, sighing. She had to get help, but how?

With the coming dawn, her own aches and pains had become more starkly evident. It had been a constant battle through the night to keep her thoughts focused; her head felt as big as a melon, and her body ached as though she’d been in a twelve round prizefight. She had no memory of how she’d gotten the burns on her hands, but she did remember slicing open her forearm arm as she’d tried to free Kate, and though she’d tied and wrapped the darn thing, it still throbbed painfully.

A quick inventory of her backpack showed her that they did have some food: a couple of bruised apples and a hard cake of dried mulberries and walnuts that Rabia, Nayim’s wife, had given her. Becky smiled at the memory of how the trader’s wife had quickly recognized her sweet tooth, and covertly slipped her a little something extra for the journey. But Becky’s smile faded quickly, thinking how the events of the past several days had made Rabia a widow; her children: fatherless.

Water – that would be a problem. Becky had only her canteen, and it had been about 2/3 full when she’d stared working on Kate. Now there was only half a container left, and she’d already resolved to preserve that portion for her friend, should she regain consciousness. Then there was her Swiss Army knife, some tissues, a near-empty bottle of aspirin, and some Band-Aids. Becky chuckled humorlessly as she remembered how she’d thought bringing that bottle would make for a lighter load, and at the tiny adhesive strips she’d thought she might need for a little cut or two. The darn things were next to useless now.

The sun had begun to peek above the horizon, and Becky turned, lifting her face to it. "Oh, God, I hope today’s a better day."

"It will be." A low, raspy rumble sounded next to her.

"Wha—" Becky swung herself around, needing to see with her own eyes what her disbelieving ears had told her. "Kate! You’re awake!"

Two bloodshot blue orbs blinked up at her.

"Thank God!" Becky gulped back the tears of joy that threatened to swamp her. "Oh God, I was so worried! Don’t move, all right? You’ve been banged up a little, but you’ll be okay. And don’t try to talk, either. Just take it easy. Now… where… where does it hurt? No, wait—" she shook her head, flustered, "I just asked you not to talk, didn’t I? Here, you should drink some water." She reached for the canteen, but her eyes had gone so blurry that she could not find it.

"Hey… slow down, Champ!"

Just the sound of Kate’s voice brought her to a stuttering halt, and she fell silent.

"How are you?"

This is so typical. She’s the one lying there half-dead, and she wonders how I’m doing? Becky rubbed the tears out of her eyes with her fist and turned to look at Kate. "I’m fine," she replied, a smile tugging at her lips, "now."

"You don’t look so fine, short stuff," Kate observed. "Look at you." She reached out a weak hand to touch the swelling on Becky’s forehead, and then let it drop down to brush the back of the younger woman’s burnt hand.

"Don’t call me short," Becky’s tone was indignant, but her green eyes were warm. She paused. "Here, she said softly, "Let’s get some water into you."

She lifted Kate’s head up, and the pilot was able to take a few choking swallows before waving Becky off and lying painfully back down. "I suppose that wasn’t a good idea," she said, chuckling painfully.

"How about some aspirin?"

"God, no!" Kate grabbed at her stomach. "Hurts t- too much."

Becky pursed her lips. "Kate," she began, "you need help. But- but I don’t want to leave you here, not like this."

"Then I’ll go with you." Before Becky could stop her, Kate had started to push herself up.

"Aaah!" A deep, guttural moan tore from the tall woman, twisting like a knife in Becky’s gut.

"Kate, don’t!"

The pilot sagged back down onto the ground, her injured leg flopping awkwardly to one side.

"Fuck!" Kate wrapped an arm across her middle, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Beads of perspiration sprang to her forehead.

"Kate, please! You’ll hurt yourself!" Becky cried, wondering how it was possible for the normally dark skinned woman to grow even more pale.

"Too… too late for that now," the pilot wheezed, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Kate?"

The pilot did not answer at first.

Becky placed the palm of her hand against Kate’s battered face. "Kate, are you with me?" A hint of panic colored her voice.

"Still… still here," Kate mumbled, forcing her eyelids open. "Did I mention that my headache’s gone?" She turned the corner of her mouth up in a small grin.

"Thank God for small favors," Becky replied, sighing. She leaned back a bit, relieved. For a moment there, she’d thought that Kate had passed out again.

"Listen, Hanson," Kate settled cloudy blue eyes on Rebecca. "I— I need you to do something for me, here. I don’t feel so good, you see," she said calmly, evenly, "and I’m going to need for you to go and get help."

"But Kate—"

"Most of all," the pilot coughed, and painfully reached for the small pouch she wore at her waist. "Take this," she snapped it free. "Get these discs back to Cyrus. He’ll know what to do with them."

Becky shook her head. "No!" she cried hoarsely, stunned with the realization of what Kate was asking her to do.

"Just a kilometer or two east should be the road we came up on. Stay on it… follow it south. If there’s traffic coming from the north, from Birat, you run, you got me?" The pilot’s eyes blazed fiercely. "But if it’s from anywhere else, flag ‘em down." Kate paused, her breath coming in painful spurts. "It’ll be risky," she continued, "but it might be the only chance you’ve got."

"Don’t ask me to leave you, Kate," Becky said stiffly. "I won’t do that."

"I’m not," Kate dropped her eyes. "You’re in better condition to watch out for those discs, that’s all. You’ll go get help, come back here for me, and then we’ll all get out of here, right? That’s the plan. Promise me you’ll do that for me, Rebecca. Please...." And at that, she caught Becky’s eyes in a searing gaze. "Promise me."

Rebecca Hanson felt the breath leave her body. God, this wasn’t fair! How much of this could she take? How much more could she bear? To just… just leave Kate behind! Who knew what sort of wild animals lurked in these badlands anyway? Or what if El Yousef’s men found her? Or thieves? Or… what if Kate took a turn for the worse? She would be helpless out here, in the middle of nowhere.

Still.

Becky let her eyes run up and down the form of the wounded pilot before her, the woman she loved. This mission, getting El-Yousef, it had meant everything to Kate, she knew that. There had been times, more than once, when she’d felt she had taken a back seat in Kate’s life to her damned obsession, but she knew that that was only a part of who the pilot was, and what she stood for.

The lives of so many were at stake. And the lives of so many had already been sacrificed. If the mission were lost and Kate’s life saved, Becky knew that the pilot would never be able to live with herself. To survive, and to be forced to watch more people die at the hands of El-Yousef’s brand of terrorism, would slowly kill her.

Rebecca made her decision. "I promise," she said gravely. "But you promise me something, too."

"Anything," the pilot’s mouth quirked, remembering their long-ago conversation in Duristan.

"Promise me you’ll be here waiting for me, when I get back."

"I promise," Kate vowed, offering her a smile that died before it reached her eyes.

Rebecca quickly busied herself with preparations for her departure, making sure Kate was as comfortable as possible before she took her leave. She’d been insistent upon leaving her knife with Kate, as protection, until the pilot had pointed out that she still had her own pistol. Kate had refused to keep the canteen, and finally they’d compromised. Becky agreed to take the canteen, and leave the apples with the Kate. The pilot convinced her that after her last ill-fated attempt at swallowing, it would be better to stick to sucking on pieces of moist apple, instead.

"Besides, you probably won’t be gone that long anyway," Kate said, trying to reassure her. "After all, people will probably be heading this way, wondering what’s happened in Birat."

"Probably." Becky’s eyes flickered, and she lowered her head.

"Hey," Kate forced a cheerfulness into her tone that she did not feel. "While you’re out there walking, I want you to start thinking about all the things you want to see when I take you back to Paris."

"Paris?" Becky chuckled, shouldering her backpack.

"Sure. You know, Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Left Bank – all that stuff." Kate held back a grimace as a stab of pain spiked through her.

"Don’t think about that now," Becky dropped to her knees, placing a hand on Kate’s now-feverish brow.

"I – I just want to remind you, Champ," the pilot gasped, "that I keep my promises."

"I know." Becky sat there for a time, absorbing the comforting feeling of her nearness to Kate. She knew it was time to leave, yet she had no clue of how she could ever find the strength she needed to tear herself away.

"I’m counting on you, Rebecca." The voice was low, the eyes, closed.

And that was enough. That was all the conviction she needed.

"C—can I get anything else for you before I leave?" Becky swallowed hard and squared her shoulders.

"How ‘bout a shot of that good Irish Whiskey you’ve been holding back on me?"

Becky was confused at first, not quite understanding what she’d heard. But then a bright smile skipped across her face, reaching her eyes, shining twin sparkles of light back upon the injured pilot. "Sorry. The bar’s fresh out. But I’ll give you a rain check."

"Nah," Kate’s voice sounded like sandpaper. "In that case, I’ll settle for a kiss."

Rebecca leaned down, pressing her lips gently against the pilot’s own, feeling the heat, the energy that pulsed from them. Every time, she felt it, that bond, that connection, just as she had that very first time they’d kissed, so long ago in Rome. Becky wanted to pull Kate to her, to tell her everything she meant to her. No! She struggled to hold it all together. I can’t do that, not now. I’ll fall apart, and I can’t. I have to be strong. For Kate.

Instead, she simply breathed in deeply of Kate’s scent, wanting to remember it forever. Finally, she pulled away, arranging a few loose strands of the pilot’s dark hair neatly back on her head.

"Be careful, Hanson." Blue eyes locked upon her.

"Back at ya." Bones crackling, Becky pushed herself to her feet and started to move away.

"Rebecca!"

She stopped, turning at the catch in Kate’s voice.

"I… I just wanted to tell you," she struggled to get the words out, "I love you. I… have… always… loved you. And I always will." Kate’s head fell back after that effort, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Covering her mouth with her hand, there was nothing Becky could do but what she had to do, what Kate needed for her to do. She continued on her course, moving east, towards the new day’s dawn.

Towards hope.

**********

The air warmed as the sun drew higher in the sky, and after a few hours walking, Becky no longer missed her field jacket. Luckily, Kate had been too out of it to notice that she had left without it. The thought of the wounded pilot alone, shivering at night…. Becky forced that vision from her mind. No way. She would have thrown her own jacket away first, before wearing it herself.

As usual, the pilot had been right, and Becky had found the gravely road just a kilometer or so east of where they’d crashed. The smoke of Birat had begun to fade away behind her, and in front of her there was nothing but a vast vista of barren ground; the mountains rising up in the east, rocky desert towards the west, low hills and scrabbley bushes straight ahead. All of it, shades of gray and brown, streaked with ochre.

It had taken them over two days driving to reach the outskirts of Birat from Duristan. Walking? Becky didn't want to think about it. All she could do was hope that she’d find someone willing to help… to go back with her to Kate… to save her.

Bruised, battered, and burned, the flight attendant continued on her way, her mind drifting, unsure of just how long she’d been moving along the rocky tract. She felt the dusty dryness in the back of her throat, but had resolved to drink the water as sparingly as possible. The longer she could hold out, the better her odds of making it, she figured. The separate aches in her body had merged and blended into one great, numbing sensation, and she felt herself lapsing into a bit of a trance as she walked, beating a comforting, mesmerizing pattern out with each step she took.

And then she saw it.

A dust cloud, she thought, as she squinted in the distance. Closer… and then she saw it for what it was. Coming up the road from the south. A truck. No, more than one. It was a convoy, of sorts. Trucks, and a couple of jeeps. South. That would be a safe direction, so Kate had said. God, could it be? Help?

Becky stood her ground in the road, waving. She maintained her composure, unwilling to let her guard down yet. The convoy slowed as it drew closer, and only then did the flight attendant grow alarmed. Several of the jeeps had machine guns mounted in the rear. The men traveling in the vehicles were dressed in a hodgepodge of clothing, both traditional and western-style, but they all were heavily armed. Bandoliers were strapped across their chests, rifles were at the ready in their hands. Their faces were dirtied from their days on the road. Not exactly the sort of rescue party she’d had in mind, she thought, feeling a tightness grip her chest.

The convoy ground to a stop in front of her. There were shouts… yells, as the men leaped out of their vehicles.

"We—we need help," Becky said haltingly, shrinking back a bit as the men confronted her, their voices raised. Angry? Excited? Threatening? She had no idea.

"My name—" she startled as one of the men circled around her, jabbing her in the shoulder. Another tugged at her blonde hair, and she slapped his hand away. "My name is Rebecca Hanson. Does… does anyone here speak English?"

The word "English" they understood, and the tempo of their shouting escalated. The men grew even more agitated, pointing their weapons at her, and then towards the north. Oh God! What if these are El-Yousef’s men? Or more bandits… or—

The door to the lead jeep slammed shut, and an Afghan man stepped out, shouting in a voice that over-rode those of his compatriots. They quieted down as the man moved slowly toward Rebecca. He was dressed completely in the Islamic hijab, up to and including the scarf he wore, covering his face. Only his piercing brown eyes were visible to Becky. He stood in front of her now, eyeing her carefully, before he pulled a pistol from his gun belt. He waved it in the air with a flourish, shouting, and his men let out a cheer.

He turned back to Rebecca, still waving his pistol at her, and took her by the arm.

I’ve failed, I’ve failed, and Kate’s going to die! The floodgates of despair opened in Becky’s heart. "Oh Kate," she cried aloud, exhaustion and defeat at last claiming her pummeled body. "I’m so sorry."

She slumped to the ground, fainting dead away.

**********

If the helicopter crash hadn’t killed Catherine Phillips, saying ‘good-bye’ to Rebecca Hanson damn near had. All the things she’d wanted to say, had wanted to share with her, but there hadn’t been any time. Not for the both of them, and not for Kate, most of all. In the end, telling her at last that she loved her, would have to do.

Kate no idea how long she’d been lying there on the rocky ground, fading in and out. The apples and sweet cake sat by her side, untouched. Excruciating pain wracked her body, from the mangled leg that she knew was broken, through a burning pain in her gut, the bruising pressure on her chest, to the fuzziness in her mind that she knew was due to a concussion – or worse.

She was going to die.

She knew that, and was unafraid. Instead, she took heart in the fact that she’d finally been able to talk Rebecca into leaving and saving herself, as well as the mission. She hoped, prayed even, that Rebecca would make it. Because the thought of the young blonde in trouble out there in the wilds of Afghanistan, lost, injured… God, it was almost too much to bear.

Kate closed her eyes against the dimming sunlight, and felt two tears leak out the corners of her eyes, trace down across her temples, and tickle her ears. She pulled in another tortured breath, thinking how easy it would be to just let go, to just let herself slip away.

"You’ve got to get back up on it!" A man’s voice. Firm. Insistent.

"Catherine Edwina Phillips! You answer me right this minute!"

"Mother?"

"Kate, it’s me, Becky. Can you hear me?"

The pilot groaned. "Rebecca," she forced open eyes cemented shut with dirt and grit. "What have you been doing, reading my driver’s license again?"

"Nah," said the pale face hovering above her. "Just trying to get your attention, baby." The shakiness of her voice belied the smile on her face. "Hey – look who I found!"

Kate forced her bleary eyes to focus on the Afghan man who crouched down next to Rebecca. He was of average height and average build. He pushed back the scarf from his face and head to reveal an average-looking face, tanned by the elements, and average brown hair, but his deep brown eyes sparkled with above-average intelligence.

What the? Kate struggled to pull the bits and pieces of her foggy mind together in an attempt to reconcile a face she should remember with the face before her now. At last, she was able to make sense of it.

"Jesus Christ!" Kate moaned. "Who the fuck do you think you are – Dan Rather?"

"At your service." Josh Greenfield grinned. "Do you realize I’ve been trailing you halfway around the world, trying to get a story?"

"Well, you got one now." Kate shuddered, and she could hear Rebecca softly calling for a blanket.

"And then some, Catherine," the CIA operative solemnly replied, placing his hand on her arm. "Good work."

"You’re welcome." Kate let her eyes slip shut, knowing that Rebecca was near. She could hear her, smell her, feel her, tucking the blanket in around her, telling her everything was going to be fine. Just fine.

Well.

If Rebecca Hanson believed that, then it must be so.

**********

United States Defense Secretary James Roberts announced today that a missile strike was mounted against the Afghanistan based terrorist camp of exiled Saudi, Abbado El-Yousef. The raid took place at 1530 EDT, about 2400 hours local time in Afghanistan. Secretary Roberts said the attack was timed to reduce potential casualties to innocent civilians, who might otherwise have been killed or wounded in the attack. It was disclosed that El-Yousef’s stronghold was located in the remote mountain village of Birat, in northeastern Afghanistan.

Roberts said he would not release any details of the attack, other than the fact the strike was carried out by U.S. Naval ships situated in the Persian Gulf, firing an unknown number of Tomahawk cruise missiles. The strike was launched on the unanimous recommendation of the National Security Council, with the President’s full knowledge and approval.

Abbado El-Yousef’s international terrorist organization has claimed responsibility for a number of terrorist acts against western governments and has been implicated in other incidents, including the hijacking of Orbis Airlines Flight 2240 in March, and the Flight 180 tragedy in July.

While Roberts was unable to confirm whether El-Yousef himself had been killed in the missile strike, he said the United States was now in possession of vital electronic data that, when fully analyzed, would undoubtedly precipitate the fall of El-Yousef’s world-wide terrorist organization.

An official statement from the ruling Taliban government in Kabul declared the attack an outrage, and a blatant violation of their sovereign rights.

Roberts closed his briefing with strong words assuring the global community that Washington would continue its economic and diplomatic assault on the Taliban, and on any other nation or political party which lends its support to international terrorism.

**********

The tall, dark haired woman sat on a balcony, high above the most wonderful city in the world, to her eyes, anyway. With its belching buses, crazy taxi drivers, and people – too damn many people to even think straight – she loved it all. Funny, she thought, how until you nearly lose something… or someone… you don’t realize how very important it is to you. It becomes something you jealously guard and protect, and once you have it, you never want to let it go.

From the safe, secure aerie of her Manhattan high-rise, Catherine Phillips could look down upon it all: the traffic, the crush of people, the spit and the litter, the sweat and the grime, and claim it all for her very own. She liked it here, on this earth, and she had no desire to leave it any time soon.

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes in the late afternoon sun. Grimacing, she shifted her aching right leg to a more comfortable position on the cushioned footrest, an item that her partner had dragged out here after realizing that even the frosty fall air would not keep the pilot off of the balcony. No, there was something about just being outside, and breathing in the crisp, free air, that Kate had to have. Every day, in fact.

It had been a blur of hospitals after Josh Greenfield had found them, he and his hired band of mujahideen freedom fighters. It turned out that the CIA liaison to Orbis Airlines had been keeping tabs on the Special Operations team for months, hoping they’d find the unconventional means of getting to El-Yousef in a way that the Agency had been unable to.

Fortunately, for everyone concerned save for Abbado El-Yousef, he’d been right.

After Afghanistan, Kate and Rebecca had hop-scotched from hospitals in Rawalpindi to Ankara, from Wiesbadden to Washington. And then, finally, to New York.

And home.

The pilot had been banged up even more than she had thought, and it was not until she’d heard the doctors going over a litany of her maladies one morning – or was it afternoon? – in Turkey, and seen the blood run from the face of the blonde woman sitting by her side, that she’d realized just how close it had been.

"Did you fall asleep out here again?" A voice sounded behind her, the voice of an angel.

Sleepy blue eyes glanced casually over one shoulder. "Nah," she said, smiling. She sat up straighter in her chair as Rebecca stepped through the sliding door and out onto the balcony. The flight attendant brushed her lips against Kate’s cheek before draping a small throw blanket around her shoulders.

"Whatcha doing?" Becky pulled her thick sweater tightly around her middle and sat down on the arm of Kate’s chair.

"Oh, a little of this, and a little of that!" Kate flashed her partner a mischievous grin as she busied herself with the computer balanced on her lap.

"Who would have thought it!" Becky laughed aloud. She’d been shocked at first when the pilot had requested a laptop while still in the hospital. Later, when Kate had continued her convalescence at home, she’d amazed Rebecca with the focus she’d shown, going after a thorough knowledge of all things computing with a vengeance. Well, if this was a way to keep Kate’s agile mind occupied during what by necessity would be a lengthy recovery period – so be it.

As it was, the way Kate had bounced back was a miracle in itself, amazing the doctors and astounding her friends. Cyrus, Mac, Rory – even Dottie West - all had been subjected to lengthy e-mails from the recuperating special operations director. Just in the last week, Becky had been finally able to detect a healthy glow to the pilot’s face that had been missing for far too long.

"Okay…." Kate’s tongue poked out thoughtfully from between her lips. "Now… watch this!" Her hands flew over the keyboard, tapping at length, until finally she pressed ‘enter.’ "There!" she grinned triumphantly, infinitely pleased with herself. "I did it!"

"Did what?" Becky played with a lock of Kate’s hair.

"Just made reservations for us in Paris next month."

"Paris?" A high-pitched squeak. "Kate, are you crazy? Will you be okay by then?" Her eyes darted to the crutches leaning against the balcony railing.

Kate snapped the laptop closed and took Rebecca’s hand in her own. "I’ll have good reason to be, won’t I?" She gave the hand a squeeze. "I promised you I’d take you back there, and do it right."

Becky swallowed hard and said nothing. She simply threw her arms around Kate’s shoulders and rested her head against the dark woman’s, allowing herself to get lost in the closeness. They sat that way for a time, silently watching the palette of the autumn sky change from blue to amber to violet.

Then Kate detected the tremor run through the small body next to her, felt the warm splash of moisture on the back of her hand.

"Hey! Hanson! What the-- geeze, don’t cry!" Kate gamely searched for a tissue and, finding none, used the cuff of her cotton sleeve, daubing it at the younger woman’s cheeks.

"Aah, I’m sorry, Kate." Becky hung her head, embarrassed. "You know me." She threw up her hand helplessly. "I’m like a old leaky bucket."

"Yeah," Kate lifted her chin with her index finger, and smiled into her green eyes. "But you’re my leaky bucket. Now tell me," she lifted an eyebrow at her partner, "what’s the matter?"

Becky sighed. "It’s just that… I can’t help but think about… it sometimes, you know? What happened." Her voice cracked. "And what if—"

"Ssh!" Kate pressed a silencing finger against her lips. "‘What if’ didn’t happen, Rebecca, thanks to you. You saved my life! And you know what that means," she released a low, rumbling laugh, trying to tease her out of her mood.

"What?" Becky sniffled, looking hopefully at Kate as though she held the answers to all the questions of the world.

"It means you’re stuck with me, forever."

A smile lit the young blonde’s face at that, chasing away the storm clouds like a warm summer breeze. "Sounds like a plan, Captain Phillips. Sounds like a plan."

THE END.

01/06/00

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