The power of finding beauty in the humblest things makes home happy and life lovely. – Louisa May Alcott

You have pretty eyes. Mommy would like you better, but she gets nervous around people who play pretend. – comment from precocious Noah Miller to Briel.

How many times had she done it? Lured a man in just to crush him when she disappeared – when the case was over? At least a dozen. How many times had she found herself needing to reconnect with that man? Never.

And after only a couple of months! It was way too soon to reopen a man’s wounds, and Briel hated the thought of the pain she might stir up. Of course, there was not only the man she needed to worry about. There was the woman she had almost thrown to the wolves. Oh, and they happen to be in the same family.

Fortunately, there was a chance Briel could avoid the man altogether. If the sister still had access to certain computer files, Briel might have no reason to make contact with the man. She had to pray that would happen.

By the time Briel reached the caye near Belize City, the sun had completely fallen beneath the horizon, and the island took on a surreal aspect with its torches and string lights. Directly before her, a few ramshackle huts tilted precariously, seeming as if a strong breeze could topple their thatched roofs. A hundred meters down the beach, a more luxe residence spread across the width of the island, its silhouette barely visible through the shadowed trees that surrounded it. Inside the house, a few dim lights illuminated the manifold windows, but not enough that Briel could make out any human forms within.

Briel gulped. After Briel had helped pull Felicity Miller from the Canadian cabin that had become her prison, Felicity had managed to be civil. Even with Briel's inaccuracy at reading people, though, the daggers that Felicity's eyes had thrown communicated their intent perfectly. Felicity had blamed Briel for her callousness, for being willing to risk both Felicity and the man she loved to acquire information for a case. Briel had almost left the Miller kids as orphans - she couldn't blame Felicity for feeling anger. Briel despised herself for the compromise she had made for the sake of a job.

When Bill Henry had organized Felicity’s kidnapping, Briel had considered an attempt at rescue. She had tried to justify why she needed Nick to finish the Alvares case, and she needed Felicity to hang onto Nick. Unfortunately, though, Briel could not find a satisfactory justification for risking her team that way. Her conscience had eaten her alive for weeks.

When Jase kidnapped Felicity, Briel had at first breathed a sigh of relief, aware that the alternative had included the woman's death. If she knew Bill Henry, he would snuff out Felicity in a heartbeat – the man would do anything to keep hold of his golden boy, Brendon. Jase had altered that plan. After a while, though, it became apparent that Jase had no intention of sending Felicity back to her life in a timely fashion. And Felicity’s quick attachment to Jase had eased Briel’s guilt. The tapes the team had encountered on the ProtoComm servers had implied all manner of bad intent by Jase and complicity from Felicity. Up until the moment in the cabin when she had realized how vile Brendon Miller really was, Briel had not questioned herself. Acquire Brendon and use him to get the information she needed, and leave Felicity to what she had chosen – Jase. Of course, Briel had found out how wrong she was, and the shock had stolen her ability to think on her feet.

Now that she had time to analyze her actions, Briel realized that she had believed her preferences over her conscience, and had almost cost a lot of people their lives as a result. Mercenary, she upbraided herself. Fortunately, Felicity had saved everyone. Unassuming housewife, Felicity Miller. True, if Bill Henry had not interrupted Brendon’s kidnapping, those guards would have unloaded bullets on the lot of them. Instead, though, Felicity had utilized chaos to effect a miracle. She had gotten Jase, herself, and Briel’s whole team out of an impossible situation. In so doing, she had also demolished a huge chunk of a multinational criminal organization.

So, Felicity had every reason to mistrust Briel, or at least mistrust her competence. And now Briel would show up at their safehouse unannounced, begging for favors. Bearing bad news. Awesome!

If Providence had not provided her a buffer, Briel might actually have chickened out - the buffer itself seemed only a slightly less painful measure of torture than approaching Felicity directly. As Briel approached the expansive one-story cabana, she started as a massive human form rose up before her. At first, she wondered if Felicity had enlisted personal guards for protection despite the remote nature of the island; however, the rich baritone voice that floated across the breeze rang familiar, and its tone arrested her. Her heart leaped to her throat. Why was he there? Why couldn’t he have a job and live alone like a good, irresponsible bachelor instead of being there to help his sister and parents?

“Mom, let me have him. He's too heavy for you,” the voice insisted.

Only then did Briel see the smaller shape of a semi-elderly if substantial woman who, from the color of her hair and texture of her skin looked to have passed more than six decades. She certainly appeared strong enough to handle the small child that rested in her arms. Typical, Briel suppressed a smile, transferring the amusement into a roll of the eyes.

When a light flashed across the woman’s face, Briel cringed as a familiarity in the contour brought back remembrance of Felicity's own profile. Briel balked, uncertain that she could actually go through with the contact.

“I've got him, Nick,” the woman – obviously Nick’s mother – chastised. “I'm not that fragile.”

Briel sensed some of Nick's own pertinacious spirit in the woman's countenance and almost laughed out loud despite her desire for stealth, but Briel reined herself in, not desiring to announce her presence with no preface. Instead, she adopted her most humble mien and stepped toward a circle of light.

“Nick?” she began hesitantly, her eyes not quite able to meet his.

Nick's expression underwent several transformations as Briel watched. First, a strange anxiety flashed across his face, followed by genuine shock. This melted into a pleased, if contained, smile as he gazed toward Briel.

“I know this is unexpected,” she continued finally managing to look squarely at Nick as he eased toward her.

“You could say that.” Nick shoulders puffed up with enthusiasm, and despite her gratitude at his buffering presence, Briel cringed when she saw how elated he seemed at seeing her. Briel had intentionally doused the flames, and she had no intention of letting the boyish Nick catch her in his enthusiasm again.

“Mom,” Nick continued in way of introduction, “this is Briel Cortes, the woman who rescued Felicity.”

Felicity's mother looked Briel up and down. “Rescued?” the woman stated skeptically: not really a question.

“Yes, mother. Rescued. Don't listen to Felicity on this. She's just bitter.”

“Nicholas Constantine Alexander!” the woman began, and Nick winced in embarrassment. “If she's bitter, she's got reason. She's not one to hold a grudge. If you had been through...”

Nick cut her off, “I know, Mom. But don't take it out on Briel. Whatever Felicity says, Briel is the reason Felicity is here, alive.”

Nick's mom started to mumble something about “stuck on this island,” but Nick spoke over her, taking on the formal office of introduction.

“Briel, I'd like you to meet Felicity's and my mother, Margaret Alexander,” Nick appeared to consider introducing his mother an honor, and Briel couldn't resist a smile at his formality. When he caught her gaze, he grinned back.

Despite her outspoken aversion, the elegant woman turned graciously toward Briel, extending her hand in old-fashioned politeness.

“It's nice to meet you,” Mrs. Alexander offered coldly, and Briel tried to offer appreciation with her return handshake.

“What are you doing here?” Nick interrupted, and though Briel intended to hold him at arm’s length, his sentiment managed to feel comforting to Briel, especially knowing the reception that awaited her inside. Briel had no idea how Nick managed even the appearance of civility after the way she had rejected him. Still, he had always been way nicer than Briel deserved. “I was afraid I'd never see you again.”

“I need some information that I think you and Felicity might be able to help me with.” Briel tried to keep her voice free from any emotion lest Nick take encouragement.

With a huff, Mrs. Alexander conceded the sleeping infant she had held in her arms to the much larger hands of Nick and turned to enter the quiet abode.

“Mom,” Nick called after her. “Don't tell Felicity yet. Let me.”

Shrugging her shoulders in accession, Mrs. Alexander glided through the door into the house.

“You must be really desperate to risk running into me,” Nick leveled, and some intense emotion burned behind his eyes. Was it anger or…smugness? She couldn’t tell, and she forced herself not to think about it. Instead, she focused on the woman inside and exactly what the conversation needed to look like.

While she waited, Briel stood awkwardly at the edge of the shadow from a palm tree, unwilling to risk the visibility of the moonlight. For one moment, Nick stared at her, hesitating as if in indecision.

Stay over there, Briel willed silently. Why aren't you in Brazil? she accused Nick silently. You're supposed to be in Brazil! Briel herself had found the message announcing the hiring of a new security specialist at Mundial, a global energy corporation. So, why would Nick still be hanging around the tropical island where his big sister lived?

Absence had lessened Briel’s response to him, but she sensed a vacuum between them, and she feared the hollow pull it wrought on her. Standing before the flesh and blood Nick Alexander made Briel almost grateful for Liam. She feared losing control with Liam, but only on a physical level. Nick managed to reach inside her and tug on some integral part of her existence.

She thought about bolting, but then Nick temporarily relieved her by offering to remove himself from her presence. “Stay here,” he instructed. “I'll take Nicholas in and send my father out - run interference.”

Briel felt powerless to resist. “Thanks,” she returned his smile. Once Nick left, she found herself able to breathe again, and she knew, after the discomfort of Nick, that she could endure an hour in Felicity's presence.

For several minutes, Briel hovered uneasily in the dark. Even as she determined to stay, her mind buzzed angrily at her unfortunate circumstances. She had really hoped to avoid the exact situation she now stood in.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” the voice of an elderly man preceded him out the screen door, and Briel snapped out of her pity party. Of course he had. Of course Nick had talked about her, considered her enough to think of carrying on her memory once she had kicked him out of her life. He was supposed to let her fade of into the nebulous past, find himself a girlfriend or a wife who he actually had some possibility of a future with. But, no. He had called her a liar, and then consecrated her memory to his family and probably his friends. How dare he!

Nick’s father definitely favored Nick, only a few inches shorter than his towering son. Nick had apparently apprised Felicity of Briel's presence, because Briel distinctly heard the petulant tones of Felicity's arguing with her little brother.

“It's great to finally meet you!” the man before her offered, interrupting any intended eavesdropping. Briel didn’t really “do” the whole stranger in a social setting thing, but she just drew on her training to nod politely. “Nick says you're having some trouble,” he began. He took Briel by the arm and led her into the low-roofed interior of the home. She took a seat on the cool, white living room sofa.

Everything in the house seemed to be white except for the dark, colonial wooden furniture: the walls, the upholstery, the exposed brick. The only touch of color came from the celadon plates in the open cabinets and a similarly colored blanket thrown over the back of the couch on which Briel sat.

“I'll go get Felicity,” Mr. Alexander promised, and Briel cringed internally at the thought.

A moment later, she looked up into the faces that suddenly had crowded the room – how she wished she had come early enough for the kids to be awake! Some kind of distraction from looking at Felicity and Nick. Briel felt uncomfortably like a schoolroom pupil isolated for misbehavior.

Mr. Alexander had disappeared into another area of the house, and Briel could hear the quiet tones of conversation between him and Mrs. Alexander.

“I need to make some coffee,” Felicity excused herself and glided into the kitchen, running water and clanking cups in her preparation for hospitality.

After a moment of awkward silence, Briel heard Nick's intake of breath, as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he reached casually to pick up a pen that rested on the end table. He clicked it a couple of times. Briel almost laughed at how painstakingly each of them tried to seem unconcerned. Still, his obvious impatience irked her.

“Is there something you want to say?” Briel demanded in a hushed tone. “It looks like you have an animal trying to jump out of your mouth.”

Nick huffed a laugh, twisting his lips comically. “Interesting imagery.”

“Well, you’re staring at me and pursing your lips – you’re like a child who wants the teacher to call on him.”

Refusing to take the bait, Nick shrugged. “You just look stressed,” he finally managed. “And I’m wondering what I can do to help.”

No one was really that unvexable. What was Nick playing at?

“Thank you,” she leveled, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Don’t get offended; it's just that, your lip is twitching. You only do that when you're really stressed.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke as Briel tried to think how to respond. Liam had said the same thing, sort of. But when Nick said it, she wanted to punch him, hardly an action conducive to rational discussion. If his first statement started her boiling, the next one sent the steam streaming through her very delicate lid.

“I get it…” he claimed, and Briel narrowed her eyes at his ironical tone. “My sister can be pretty scary. She's not good at holding grudges, though, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Briel stared at the coffee table. His words could hold such double meaning. There was the obvious jab at Briel, implying she was afraid of Felicity. Nick could have said to tease her or to provoke her, depending on his current opinion of her. The second statement though…She’s not good at holding grudges. Of course, it could be intended as comfort. But if Nick were the one holding the grudge, he was just clever enough with words to intend the intimation. And I would deserve it. She would deserve it based on Banff alone, and Nick didn’t even know the risk she was placing on them by coming to see them now. If he found out…?

I am an awful person.

Of course, Felicity would not hold a grudge, because she was Felicity. She just seemed to possess the preternatural ability to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. It was how her husband had manipulated her and deceived her for at least a year before he tried to have her kidnapped. Briel thought it unlikely that two people existed in the world with that kind of overly-forgiving attitude toward humanity, much less two people from the same family. Besides, Nick knew Briel too well to excuse her decisions.

She remembered coming to her senses staring at Nick over her coffee cup, the warm scent of the coffee having relaxed her mind, and she had felt annoyed at her own contentment. For one, she had to stay professional for the sake of the mission. Also, and more importantly, Briel had long before promised herself that she would never date anyone more intelligent than she. Nick? Nick was just beyond brilliant. He was also gorgeous, considerate, and generous. He was, therefore, totally unacceptable.

A few months before the mission, she had entered the relationship with Liam partly out of boredom and partly just for the challenge. Even if she had to endure sports bars, she wouldn't endure them alone. Not only that, but the purely physical attraction she felt for Liam meant that she would never succumb to the danger of giving him her heart. She would rather stay superficial with a Liam than expose herself to someone like Nick and his piercing insight.

As often happened to Briel, she found herself attracted – in an academic sense - to the powerful men involved in the Alvares mission. After months of near isolation from humanity, Briel had found herself thrust into pretty much constant contact with one interesting person or another.

There was Brendon, successful, highly intelligent, handsome enough. Obviously, she held no thought of him on a personal level, but engaging with him in the Miller home had proven stimulating and entertaining. When he turned out to be a criminal, she passed a moment of sadness but shrugged her shoulders at the corruption of the world.

She had started to engage with Liam a few months before they had started dating. Seeing him on a mission though? It really brough out his best attributes. Of course, his Germanic good looks, chiseled and etched like a statue, played a role in her attraction to him, but on the mission, she remembered why he had garnered her respect as well: an instinct for action, sheer physical force, and unusual athletic adroitness. Fortunately for her wish to protect herself from any deep personal connection, though, Liam’s attraction ran very shallow. His atavistic tendencies, while keeping her interested, also repelled her on a deep level. Though he had studied and trained his mind, he wore any philosophical knowledge as lightly as a t-shirt – not even a mantle. On occasion, he needed to know things to do his job, but they bore no effect on his soul. He was a shallow, simple being, which proved highly convenient to Briel.

When Jase had shown up, though her history with him might have lured her to seek him out, he was, at the time, fully obsessed with Felicity Miller. Good thing, because he held the total package, and though Briel could never trust him, she couldn’t quite suppress her youthful need to impress him.

And so, with Briel slightly off-kilter from her transition between recluse and socially entrenched, her attraction to Nick hit her out of nowhere. He was a peripheral, an incidental contact necessary to secure a target. Not only did he pursue her shamelessly, he impressed her.

Not possessing a dominant bearing, Nick's easy-going personality kept Briel off-balance. She knew very well how to meet force with force, but what did one do with concession? With teasing? In warfare, concession equaled surrender, at least to Briel, and teasing got you shot. With Nick, she found a force so powerful that it did not even bother engaging in battle.

She found his penchant for lighthearted mockery especially disconcerting. Where she craved respect, he gave jibes. Where she sought to protect herself by minimizing her vulnerability, he found every crack in her defense. Like Nessa, he possessed insight that dragged Briel out of her shell, but where Nessa responded with compassion, Nick teased. How could she respond to such lack of respect?

“Earth to Briel…” Nick actualized her thoughts. “Did I shock you into silence with my spot-on observations again?”

“Definitely not that,” Briel retorted. “Nothing you said demanded a response.” She lowered her voice, not wanting to reveal her petulance to Felicity. “Are you planning to be this charming all night?”

“No, you're right.” Nick matched her volume. “You’re not here for my entertainment. I wouldn’t use you for my own purposes and then send you on your way – I respect you too much for that.”

Guilt tightened her chest at the words; he hadn't forgiven her, despite his apparent pleasure at her presence. Instead of guilt, the fact should make her feel better. She had intended to break his heart so he would move on. Could he, knowing what he knew, really wish things had turned out differently? Though her mind insisted that she did not care, every other ounce of her being wanted to tell him, wanted to admit that she wished it, too. That if she had a different job, that if she didn't live so far away, that if she didn't have so many plans...In other words, if I weren't me. Staring into the puppy-dog dejection in his eyes, though, she couldn’t escape the reality of what she was doing at the moment. I have some nerve coming here to ask for help.

The voice from the kitchen ripped Briel from her discomfort as the tension between Nick and her shredded into fine strands of memory. She worried how much of her thoughts had passed over her expression, and when she glanced up at Nick, his face was conflicted.

“Nick, you know, not everyone appreciates your winning personality,” Felicity scolded as she reentered with a tray of coffee. Briel found herself sighing in relief at the interruption, a strange reaction to the erstwhile terrifying Felicity.

“You like me,” Nick retorted, his jaw clenching and releasing as he leaned back and donned a more casual mien.

“Yes, but I have to,” his sister replied with a suffering air. “You're my brother.”

Without preamble, Nick stood to take the tray from Felicity. He set it carefully onto the coffee table in front of Briel and whispered some comment to his sister – something that made her laugh and drew her gaze to Briel. Briel forced her eyes to a fittingly colored replica of a Gorky abstract painting. It was beautiful, and Briel used it to center herself. She could verbally spar with Nick and stay aloof, but she couldn’t let herself feel her regret. She couldn’t consider what she had done to him when she ran – what she was doing now.

“Now, you two be nice,” Mr. Alexander called from the other room, apparently familiar with that particular brand of laughter., and Briel was able to turn back to them with a smile

“Yes, dad,” the pair yelled in unison, grinning at each other before taking their places for tea.

“How can we help you?” Felicity inquired.

Thank God for Felicity, Briel sighed, steeling herself. “I need some information about Bill Henry,” Briel turned to address the siblings, thankful for the distraction, "…and anything Brendon told you about his habits.”

“I thought you had all of the information that could help you on those discs that Nick deciphered.” Felicity's anxiety shone through her usual taciturn. Apparently, she didn't like to be reminded of Bill Henry.

“Well,” Briel hedged. “I need something a little different, something not recorded on the disks.”

“What are you looking for?” Nick queried.

“I've searched all of the disks, and I have not found any personal information on Henry. I knew that he jealously guarded his privacy, and he appears not to have put any information about himself in the records. In light of what happened to those records, it appears to have proven a smart move.”

“And no one on your team has access to the information?” Felicity wondered.

“There are…issues with my team. Besides, they probably don’t have access to the information I need.”

“So, you want personal information on Bill Henry?” Nick begged. “I don’t know why you would think we would have that. Why do you need it?”

“Only as a catalyst for some other searches that I need to undertake,” she answered stoically. She only just managed to maintain the casual demeanor; her nerves were shot. Bad enough being kidnapped and sold into slavery, then having her house burned down. Briel had also broken up with a man she couldn't resist and had placed the fate of her investigation partly in the hands of a man she wanted but had rejected only a short time before. Things had begun to look very bad and very confusing for Briel.

When she saw, from the corner of her eye, that Nick shook his head, she lost it for just a moment. The tension that she had repressed for the last week erupted from her somewhat unexpectedly, and she took it out on the only person in the room she wasn’t afraid to offend – she actually hoped to offend him, though she doubted she held the intellectual prowess to manage it. In fact most of the time, she felt like he just played along to amuse her. “What?” she turned on Nick with a saccharin voice.

“I said nothing,” he shrugged.

“Not with your words. You were about to shake your head off your neck. Was something I said unbelievable? Unclear?” She could her own accent thickening, and she tried to breathe through it,

“Unclear? No,” he denied. He spoke so calmly that Briel wanted to claw his eyes out. Her mind registered the fact that Felicity stared at her, but Briel continued as if she didn't see the other woman in the room. If his calm irritated her, the grin that spread across his face as he stared at her outrage send her into full spin. “You know,” he asserted, “I really missed you.”

For a moment, Briel was speechless. That had to be sarcasm, or maybe even mocking. But he was so confusing – he looked like he meant the words. Finally, she realized she had to say something or Nick would know he had confused her. “That was a complete non-response. I thought I was the one who equivocated,” she accused. What was she doing? Why would she let him get to her so easily, even when he had no intention of doing so?

She knew why, she realized. Not only did Briel blame him for her current situation, she also blamed him for every ounce of chaos that had occurred in her life since Phoenix. She blamed him for any weakness that had come upon her: for not being able to find her pursuer, for gaining Nessa as a friend, for breaking up with Liam, even for finding herself irresistibly drawn back to her ex-boyfriend. Nicholas Constantine Alexander bore the blame for all of it because he had made her doubt herself. “If you have something to say, just say it,” she spat.

His eyes challenged her before he spoke, and he seemed glad for the invitation. “Is that what you call it? Equivocation. I'm shaking my head because I would call it something else; I would say you're a control freak.” Though his words spoke frustration, his demeanor reflected only a cool relaxation, as if he could watch collectedly while the world burned. “Could you ‘equivocate’ any more than you are doing now? Just so you can keep me at arm’s length?” he accused. “If you could engage in a regular human interaction, you would realize that now is a time when you should just tell the truth!”

“Excuse me? You’re making this about you, and I am a control freak?” Briel countered. She had found at least one sentiment to censure in his words. “You would be hard pressed to find anyone who gives others more freedom than I do. In fact, I'm known in my profession by the fact that I allow my teams unmatched leeway in decision-making.”

Nick's mischievous grin resurfaced; he knew he had affected her. “Well, I wasn't exactly talking about 'your teams,' though apparently someone on your team has managed to exploit your relaxed style.” He spoke the last two words as taunt.

Through the fire that burned in her irritated brain, Briel tried to limit her emotions to objective thought. She was a rational human being. How did he get “control freak” out of her question about Henry? “Then what were you talking about?” she begged through clenched teeth.

“Well,” he seemed to ponder his response. “There are two types of control freaks. The first tries to control and manipulate everyone around him. Obviously, that doesn't apply to you.” Nick hesitated, as if suddenly wishing to dam the waters he had unleashed.

“And the other type?” Briel urged, piqued. She couldn't let him stop now.

“The other type is the kind of person who never lets anyone in because she doesn't want to be vulnerable. You're a control freak about you, not other people. You, Briel, are in deep trouble, and you're so stubborn that you won't ask for help.”

A silent vacuum sucked the air out of the room for a moment as Felicity sat poised between discomfort, amusement, and shock. Nick's accuracy stabbed into Briel's gut, and she knew then that he spoke of more than her professional behavior. Yes, he still regretted what happened in Phoenix. Not only that, though. His sense of injury seemed tied to her present lack of connection, not her past rejection. It was stupidly sweet, and she resented the implication that he still cared more than her original belief that he was holding a grudge.

He had somehow guessed at her dilemma, and she didn’t know what she had said that had given her away. With his big brain, it was probably something completely unrelated, like the color of my shirt! His Sherlock Holmes mind sent her squirming away for cover. “What exactly does it sound like I'm doing now? I'm here to ask for help.”

“You're here to ask for information, not for help. There’s a difference. One implies dependence, which is not something you can abide. You have some,” he hesitated as if looking for the right words, “personal issue for which you need to contact Henry's people, and you don't want to bring the team in on it. You don't trust them.” With that, Nick blushed the slight pink that he always seemed to turn when he felt uncomfortable, and he swallowed whatever he thought of next.

Shocked, Briel paused, unable to speak for a minute. How did he know this? “You act as if you know me, Nick,” she spat his name as an insult. “How exactly do you think you know this?” Had she explained why she couldn’t appeal to her team? She didn’t think so. Had he just inferred from something she said, made a leap? Sure, Nick had always shown unbelievable insight, but however perceptive he proved about her emotions, she should possess the ability to hide facts.

Instead, he was totally right. “...too stubborn” to ask for help. No, trying desperately to avoid asking for help because that was not how the job worked. The job relied on quid pro quo, payment for services rendered. Nick wanted to just offer her help with nothing in return? That was not safe. And there it is once again! she complained.

Briel's entire experience with Nick had consisted of an attempt at playing pretend, yet whatever she revealed always seemed to give him a drill to pierce directly into her mind. In fact, though Briel had come to Belize to pick the brains of untrained laypeople, here she now sat, an unwilling patient of Professor Nick Freud.

“You asked,” he replied without emotion. His lack of feeling intimidated almost made Briel lose her self-possession entirely. She was done with him, though. If she couldn't win, she wouldn't play. When she turned toward Felicity, Briel couldn't miss the amused expression that rested on the woman’s face. Something, though, compelled Felicity to end Briel’s misery.

“I think we went off topic a little – you said you need some personal information about Henry,” Felicity inserted. “What information? I think your best bet would be to seek out Jase.” The way Felicity spoke his name – she definitely had Stockholm Syndrome.

“He’s not really available for consultation at the moment,” Briel adopted a tone calmer than she felt, “but you mentioned some things in our post-mission interview. You said Brendon had traveled with Henry to several countries outside the U.S. Do you know where exactly?”

“Yes, I know where, but with Henry out of commission, I'm frankly surprised that you would have any reason to investigate them. They were pleasure trips, from what I have determined, not business.”

“Ms. Miller,” Briel began.

“Come on, Briel. You can still call me Felicity,” she corrected, patting Briel’s hand. “You were my nanny for almost a month.”

“Felicity,” Briel continued, smiling. She had forgotten, beneath her own guilt, how very kind Felicity Miller was. “I appreciate the fact that I can come to you in honesty and ask for this small amount of help, but I am not really in a position to offer a professional explanation. I am the professional here. No matter how convinced Nick is of his opinion, and I assure you that I need this information.”

Briel couldn't help the jab. After thirty minutes of abject torture - under the scrutiny of Nick, afraid of Felicity, forced to commune with strangers - Briel had begun to lose her self-possession.

Unfortunately, Briel’s earlier lapse had cost her. Felicity abruptly donned a skeptical look. “I understand you are a professional, Briel, but I have never really found my brother to miss when it comes to insight –” Felicity leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “…maybe in his manners, and I apologize for those.” Her attempt at humor didn’t appease Briel, but Felicity didn’t seem to notice. “That leads me to wonder, though: why is it that you didn't bring any of your team with you? You say you are a professional, but your profession uses a team, and you are talking like you intend to manage this alone.”

“Look, I plan to meet up with them later,” she answered vaguely. “I'm just on an intel run before the mission.”

“An intel run? This seems…well, it doesn’t seem like an intel run for a mission. I’ve seen you on a mission. You are impeccable. But now? You show up here,” Felicity interrupted – she was surely related to Nick. “...if you don't mind my saying, unbathed, unkempt, obviously at the end of a hike. Maybe all of that could have been for an intel run. But I've noticed your looking over your shoulder ever since you arrived, as if anyone could find us here. And when did you ever respond to provocations from an enemy, much less a friend like Nick? Your behavior is hardly your characteristic coolness.”

So, it was the barb at Nick that had exposed Briel’s secret. Well, she could at least keep her cool with Felicity, as long as she avoided looking at the woman’s brother. “Felicity, I am perfectly competent to take care of myself. I don't need you or anyone else to protect me. You should know that.” Her eyes shot sideways toward Nick.

“I do know that,” the older woman raised her eyes in consideration. “Still, I feel hesitant to divulge any information to you without knowing the nature of your business. Not when you seem like you’re in some distress. If something happened to you because of information I gave, I would feel personally responsible.”

“Well, um...I release you from responsibility. I mean, you don’t owe me any loyalty. After the way I treated you in Banff, you really shouldn’t feel any. All that matters is that I need this information.” Did she sound desperate? How had she ended up on the wrong end of the firing squad? I could torture them until they told me, she thought wryly, but merely pursed her lips lest she say something even dumber than her thoughts. If she continued in this vein, she just might run away and forget her self-assigned mission.

“Then tell us the truth for once,” Nick pressed, finally sounding irritated.

“Lay off, Nick,” Felicity insisted, and Briel couldn’t suppress her gratitude for the woman’s defense.

Instead of backing off, Nick just paused to reposition himself for a new attack, and a moment later, Briel watched him stand and move to sit directly across from her. “No way I'm laying off, Felicity. People do stupid things when they think they're protecting other people. Like you keeping me away from Quido.”

Briel saw Felicity kick Nick covertly. The woman apparently didn’t appreciate having her actions questioned by her younger sibling.

“That was absolutely the right thing to do,” Felicity countered.

Thinking back, Briel had to recognize the parallels in her and Felicity’s situations. Two women, both pursued by powerful enemies, both isolated from their usual sources of assistance. Maybe Briel had training, but Felicity had stumbled on Jase who compared to Briel in capability. And still, Felicity barely made it out alive. Maybe Briel should at least let them offer insight – nothing more. Maybe she needed perspective. “No, he’s right, Felicity!” Briel allowed. “I don’t trust my team. I do need help.” She paused for a breath. “I'll tell you what I can. You're right; I am in danger. In fact, someone is after me,” she nodded to Nick without looking at him, “and I need to know Bill Henry's information to track down who is after me. I think Henry contacted the person who instigated my kidnapping.”

Her companions now riveted their eyes onto Briel, instant tension stretching across the space between them.

“So you admit it!” Nick exclaimed, his shock apparent on his face.

Admit it?

Felicity looked shocked, too, almost catatonic. She stared in silence at Briel, a kind of sickly pallor spreading over her countenance. Felicity's gasp turned Nick’s eyes to his sister as the silence stretched on. Finally, Felicity's whisper filled the room. “Bill Henry contacted someone? How could Bill Henry contact anyone?” Her eyes pierced Briel with their steely intensity. “Bill Henry is on life support.”

“Okay,” Briel sighed guiltily, gazing at the floor. She had meant only to give a concession, but as often happened around Nick, her plans meant nothing. Perfect, she complained. “I kind of found out some things in Mexico.”

“When they kidnapped you?” Nick demanded, and Briel blinked in confusion. Had she told them that? “Bill Henry was there?”

Felicity’s increasing panic distracted Briel, and she couldn’t process Nick’s statement.

“No. No, he is somewhere overseas, I think. I don’t know how – I thought Jase had seriously damaged him - but Bill Henry is still functional. Apparently, he has singled me out for eradication – at least I think it's Henry. Probably because his idiot henchmen revealed that he’s still running the company.” She didn't mention the mysterious someone who had personally tried to take her out in San Antonio. The fewer particulars they knew, the easier for Briel to cover her tracks.

“A fact which you just shared with us,” Felicity's voice lowered to a whisper. “And you're here, possibly leading him to us by your presence...” Could Briel possibly do any more to make the woman hate her?

“I’m sure it’s fine, Felicity,” Nick insisted, finally moving to catch Briel’s eye. “It’s fine, Briel. We’re fine.” He clasped his sister’s hand, and Briel saw too clearly what her words had done to her hostess.

“Felicity, I have been inordinately cautious on my journey here. I trekked through the jungle, I destroyed my cell phone, I haven't used any credit cards - not since San Antonio. I promise, no one knows you're here.” Despite Briel's desire to maintain her composure, remorse leaked onto her countenance.

After her desperate babbling attempt to comfort Felicity, several seconds of silence passed, and Nick looked poised to jump to whichever woman showed distress. If her chest hadn’t been constricted with anxiety, she might have held space in her mind to judge him, to mock him. But for once, Briel thought she might need him to intervene if Felicity panicked.

When compassion softened the older woman’s face, Briel held her breath.

“I'm sorry, Briel,” Felicity offered. “I didn't mean to seem so insensitive. I, of all people, understand how it feels to be where you are now. At this point, you're the one in danger, not me.”

Briel shook her head as she watched Nick’s hand relax on his sister’s. How could this woman still give Briel the benefit of the doubt?

“Really, Briel,” Nick offered more solicitously, with less belligerence than before. “I'm sorry I was such a jerk,” Nick admitted. “I just…I knew something was wrong, and I couldn't stand not to know. We'll help in any way we can.”

There it was again. Apparent concern, apparent sincerity. How could she not get a read on him? When she realized that both of the room’s other occupants stared at her, she tossed out an answer to break the tension. “I really do appreciate it,” she allowed. “And I'm sorry I brought you into this.”

“Please, Briel. Don't worry about it,” Felicity insisted, her voice now steady. “We'll be fine. I'm more concerned that you want to take Bill Henry on alone. You can't do that.”

“You did,” Briel countered.

At this, Felicity scrunched her nose self-consciously.

“I mean, sort of. But it was reckless and dangerous and almost got a lot of people killed. I was crazy.”

Briel gazed at the woman with undisguised admiration. “You were crazy brave,” Briel disagreed. “You were smart and kept your head, things I went through years of training for. Don’t sell yourself short, Felicity.”

“You didn’t see the inside of my head,” Felicity laughed. “Please don't adopt my example as your game plan.”

Briel couldn't help an echoing laugh. “Fair point.”

“See? You said it yourself! You can’t take on Henry alone,” Nick’s voice intruded on the women’s friendly exchange. “I’ve already spent months trying to blot what happened to you and my sister out of my mind. And then you put yourself back in his crosshairs?”

What happened to Briel? What had happened to Briel in Banff? She had done everything she intended in Banff, and she had gotten her information. She remembered his words before she left. “You’re going to go in there guns blazing, and they are going to shoot back.” Characterizing Banff as “what happened” to her showed a willful misunderstanding of her job. Still, there was the reminder that he had cared about her, at least back then.

Avoiding Nick's gaze, Briel pushed her emotions to the undermost part of her consciousness. “I didn’t know I was putting myself in his crosshairs because I didn’t know he was functional. Now, I’m already there, and I have to figure out a solution. I'm not taking on Henry,” she averted Felicity's concern. “I just need some information so I can protect myself.” Briel debated with herself. How much did she want to explain? In reality, what did she have to fear from revealing too much information to them? They lived on an isolated tropical island where no one could find them. She decided to risk it.

“I can’t trust my team because I think someone on my team is helping Henry. I'm not concerned about Henry, exactly, but I need to know who is helping him. That’s all I’m looking for. Who on my team would facilitate this? And why not just kill me? I guess someone has tried several times, come to think of it.”

When Briel looked up at her companions, she realized that both of them looked angry and determined. Such a strange sentiment to come from others on her behalf. She usually played that role.

“Stay here with us!” Nick suggested forcefully. “You can just stay here, and no one can find you.”

Briel couldn’t even consider the idea, especially not with Nick hovering around irritating her. “Um, thanks. But I'm not bringing my demons down on your family.” She continued more forcefully, looking specifically at Felicity. “As much as I tried to cover my tracks, I'm not sure I can completely hide for long. We're talking my teammates here. They're the best in the world. Besides,” she hesitated, not wanting to explain herself. “I don't like to hide; it's not my style.”

“Of course not,” Felicity agreed. “You can't hide, I understand. Just let us help you.”

“You can help me, by giving me the information I need,” Briel insisted. “Where can I find Henry?”

For a few minutes, Felicity paced slowly around the room, her chin in her hand. The inward focus of her eyes denoted her concentration. “Brendon went on several trips with Bill. Obviously, we’re not talking about the U.S., because the company is closed down, but he went to Canada a couple of times, of course, with clients – well, he claimed it was with clients. Then, he also went to Paris and Thailand. I don’t know where in Thailand; I’m sorry.”

“So, the situation is this: Henry has been running ProtoComm from behind the scenes, but with law enforcement scrutinizing company records, Henry has likely moved his base of operation somewhere outside the scope of the law, so France or Thailand. Canada is way to close and has easy extradition. Plus, good monitoring of criminal activity.”

“Well, I’m sure he would be more comfortable in France, but the government there is stronger. Thailand would be less controlled,” Felicity ventured.

“You're right. We found some shady bank transactions between Thailand and Henry's local bank in New York. Of course, he might have carried those around with him for security.”

“No, Nick,” Felicity disagreed. “You’re giving him too much credit. I doubt he’s as paranoid as you. He probably doesn’t carry around his entire operating system on a pin drive.”

“But would he have access to all the technology he would need in Thailand,” Nick interjected. “He could live like a king in Thailand, but you can imagine the difficulty of security.”

“Plus, he never really liked to get himself involved in the human trafficking aspect of the business, and Thailand is most likely where he headquarters for that facet of work,” Briel agreed. “He will not want to go there except as last recourse.”

Briel saw Felicity shiver and decided to wrap up the conversation. “Well, that helps me a lot. I have resources that can assist me along the line now that I have a direction.” Without warning, a vision of her hometown floated into her mind, the ancient buildings, three stories tall, crowded on either side of the narrow street, her neighbors milling in and through the pâtisserie and boulangerie that constituted the focal points of their lives. She shook her head to dispel the vision. “All I need is one person with inside access to help me, and that shouldn't prove too difficult: I have family in the ministry.”

Felicity spoke for the first time, “In Thailand?” Briel couldn't believe that she had let the phrase slip from her mouth. Still, she felt grateful that Felicity had misunderstood the intent. Before she could supply an explanation, however, Nick spoke up.

“She meant in France,” he claimed. He stated it matter-of-factly, as if he somehow had inside knowledge. Irritated again, Briel tried not to react at Nick's correct assertion lest she give it credence.

“Actually,” she contradicted Nick condescendingly, “I have family who work in the Thai consulate.” A lie. Briel had very little family left, and all of it still in France. Nick smiled wryly at her equivocation as if he knew better, but fortunately, he said nothing. Regardless, Briel's anxiety again increased with the exchange.

There was so much about Nick that didn’t make sense, so much that she couldn’t put her finger on. It was as if she had never kicked him out of her life, as if he had continued to haunt her from the moment he had caressed her face and walked out her door. Her peripheral vision caught his exasperated scoff

“I just don't like it, felicity,” Nick complained. “I mean look at her.” He gestured to Briel. She should have felt insulted, but he was so anxious, it was hard to fault him despite his disrespect. “It's lunacy to send a lone woman to confront a criminal mastermind with an entire organization behind him. I don't care how competent she is.”

Briel had never seen him quite so emotional. For the first time since she had known him, she saw more than a subdued displeasure. Nick looked angry; maybe even distressed.

“I'm not going to confront him,” Briel stuttered, locked somewhere between concern for Nick and anger at his presumption. “I'm just gathering information so I can better defend myself against whoever is after me. They are coming after me, not the other way around. But I am perfectly equipped to deal with them, and even more so now that I have this information.” It wasn’t purely true – she was going after them. But it was a defensive stance nonetheless, elicited from attacks against her.

Again proving herself the queen of insight, Felicity rose gracefully from the chair, placing her own hand on Nick's arm. “Nick, believe me, Briel can handle herself, at least as well as you can if not better.”

With her comment, Felicity glanced sideways at Briel, and Briel understood the reference to Jase. In Banff, Felicity had revealed how she had followed Briel to her apartment and watched the young operative bring Jase to his knees with a secure hold. Of course, Briel wouldn’t acknowledge how her only real advantage there had been surprise. Jase could have done much worse to Briel if he could have surprised her.

More interesting, though, was Felicity’s assertion that Nick could “handle himself” as well as Briel. Was there something about Nick that he hadn’t explained? He wasn’t in intelligence circles – Briel had far too many contacts throughout the community to be blindsided by that option. Still, since Felicity knew about Briel’s ability, the comparison seemed strange.

“It’s true,” she agreed, suppressing her questions. “I can handle myself. And the most effective way to do so is to avoid dangerous situations,” she met Nick's intense gaze for one moment. “I'm not going to confront anyone, just dig for information.”

“And if your pursuer finds you?” Nick begged hotly, his gaze pierced with dissatisfaction.

“How could anyone find me? No one knows I came here, not even the teammates I trust. I left without telling them I was leaving. From here, I'll hike back into Mexico and fly out from there. The chances of their finding my trail are minimal,” Briel stared into Nick's eyes, willing him to believe her. She saw the moment that he decided to stop fighting.

“There's no need for you to hike back into Mexico. I can drive you with very little inconvenience,” Felicity insisted, interrupting the silent communication. Internally, Briel felt grateful for the excuse to look away from Nick.

“No way,” she contradicted. “If by some chance someone traced me to Chetumal and is monitoring the airports, I don't want anyone to see you. You will be on their watchlist.”

Exasperated, Nick sighed in concession, “I'll drive you.”

“No, it's okay,” Briel answered a bit too quickly, and Nick smiled, obviously recognizing the desperation of her protest.

“No, I insist. I don't like that you're doing this, but if you must, I'd rather at least see you safely to the airport. I guess I'll just have to be nervous after that until you let us know you're okay.” His tone had left no room for disagreement, and Briel would have revolted against the presumptuousness, but Nick looked so apprehensive that she felt sorry for him. If he meant his concern, she owed him at least that consideration. “You will let us know when you're okay, right?”

“As soon as I can safely communicate…” She spoke to Felicity rather than face Nick again, “I'll let you know I'm alright.”

“Just in case, is there someone on your team we can contact, someone you trust?” Felicity couldn’t hide her apprehension. “I just can't imagine not knowing that you're okay.”

“I promise; I'll let you know,” Briel felt a bit foolish for consenting to “check in” with the Millers, but she heard herself agreeing before she could consider. “I'd better get out of your way...” she started to insist.

“Please stay the night,” Felicity interrupted. “Surely you don’t have to rush back out into the line of fire. You will feel much better after a night's sleep, and you’ll be better prepared to do what you need to do. Besides, my mom and dad just returned from Brazil, and my mom is too tired to join us for our nightly round of Spades. We need a fourth.”

No, her mind responded immediately, but her lips had other ideas, and she heard them answer “Okay.” She had a strange desire to prolong the time with the family, something she didn't want to examine.

Within thirty minutes, she sat at the dinner table, an intimate gathering of family that included the entertaining parrying between Nick and his father, a pairing which left Briel and Felicity holding their sides from the laughter. If Briel felt uncomfortable with the natural way she and Nick sat next to each other, she didn't express the thought even to herself.

The ensuing evening proved entirely enjoyable, and Briel almost forgot her discomfort. Somehow aware of Briel's reserve, Felicity talked casually about various subjects: how much the family enjoyed living in the simplicity of the caye, the friendliness of the locals. In contrast to her small talk, Nick constantly stirred up fits of laughter that Felicity had to shush lest the kids awake.

After a particularly frustrating game where Briel partnered with Felicity, Felicity seemed to sense Briel's exasperation and turned to her dad. “So,” Felicity teased him. “I'm not good enough to play with you?” which resulted in a shuffling of partners. As much as Briel tried not to care about something so petty, she greatly appreciated Nick's skill and logic, a set of traits which allowed their team to dominate that of Felicity and her dad. Nick counted every card played, and he managed to predict his opponents' moves before they made them. Finally, Mr. Alexander feigned resignation. “Felicity!” he began, and huffed exasperatedly at his daughter, “I taught you better than this!”

Felicity laughed. “You’re just a sore loser, dad.”

“Maybe I am,” he agreed, “but I’m definitely too old to stay up this late losing.”

A glance at the clock revealed the post-midnight hour.

“Sorry, Dad!” Felicity worried. “I think we’re done anyway. And I have to get up with the kids in the morning.”

Felicity stepped into the hallway to speak to her father, and when Nick rose as well, Briel pushed her chair back and eased back toward the less confined space in the living room. Unfortunately, Nick had the same idea, and since he had been seated with his back to the living room, the motion in concert placed her within a couple of feet of him.

With a steeling breath, Briel stopped, afraid that wherever she moved would place her even closer to him. She would just wait for him to step away and then adjust her course. She waited, but he did not step away.

Instead, he inched a little closer, and Briel had to force her breath to remain calm.

“So, I guess your current situation brought you back to ‘just a mission.’”

She steadfastly stared at a swirl of blue that dotted the rug on the floor. “I…” she stammered. “I guess.” And now I sound like an idiot.

“Pretty inconvenient.”

Mostly suppressing her smirk, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before raising them defiantly to his. “Not really. It’s still just a mission, after all.”

“Is it?” he murmured, and the heat in his expression tightened her chest. She licked her lips, and if Felicity had not walked back into the room at that moment, Nick seemed like he would have followed his words with actions. Briel’s mind had already wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a kiss. She stared back at the rug, and Nick eased back coolly. Briel finally filled her lungs when he turned back to his sister.

“I'm going to go sleep at Luke's,” he informed the room, no hint in his voice of the tension that had just threatened Briel’s sanity. “He wanted me to install an antivirus on his computer. This island technology is pretty backward, to say the least.” At first, he turned to Briel as if to say something, but he instead merely waved at her and then crossed to Felicity to squeeze a hug.

“Night, Sis,” Nick voiced cheerfully, then shook his dad's hand. “I'll be back early. You know how Luke's mom can talk. And in his hut, it's hard to escape.” Nick grimaced, and walked out the door.

Briel glanced covertly at Nick as head stepped to the door, and he met her eyes for an instant before retreating in the darkness. “Come on, Briel,” Felicity encouraged warmly, taking Briel by the hand. “You can sleep in here.”

Walking before Briel, Felicity paused at a closet and loaded her arms with sheets and blankets. The room into which Felicity showed Briel felt much warmer than the rest of the house, its rich tan walls, almost khaki in color, accented with denim linens and burgundy accents. To its visual appeal, it added a scent that spoke heat and spice and new-fallen rain.

“Just give me a minute,” Felicity insisted as she removed the sheets from the bed. “Nick's been staying in our guest room the last couple of weeks until he starts his new job in Sao Paulo.”

Nick, she recognized the smell, and her stomach did a flip, but whether of irritation or pleasure she couldn't discern. “Did I displace him? He didn't have to do that.” Briel bit her lip in dismay. “Really, let me leave tonight. I can be on a plane in a few hours.”

Felicity pursed her mouth in seeming irritation and raised one eyebrow to chastise her guest, “Briel, I don't mind at all…” a smirk painted the corner of Felicity's mouth. “And Nick definitely doesn't mind giving his place up for you.”

Briel smiled weakly at Felicity's retreating figure as it glided out the door. “Thanks,” Briel called after her. Sinking into the oversized bed, Briel pulled the pillow over her head and tried not to remember the images her mind had created when she had stood so close to Nick. Or about the fact that he had lain in the very bed where she now lay.

To her dismay, Briel realized that she had encountered something far scarier than all of the forces that had come against her so far: people who claimed to be her friends – including Nicholas Alexander. Briel would have known how to handle the former type of people, but she had no idea what to do with the latter. If she had to choose a foe, she would definitely prefer a criminal. She might there have a chance to emerge the victor.