PART ONE

"If you'll wait in the hall, you can have your shirt back in just a few minutes."

A grin made it's way to Maxwell Robinson's face as he listened to the nurse. Looking back over at Tala as she laid in the bed, his shirt buttoned up around her, he regarded the nurse once more. "I'll get it later."

He paused yet another second to look back over at Dr. Malvison and saw the grin on her face as well. He genuinely smiled, nodded once more, then walked away from the room knowing that within the next couple of days, maybe even sooner, that he'd get his shirt back... clean... from Tala. ‘That's enough of a reward for me,’ he thought as he confidently walked down the hall toward the elevators.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Coming out of Mr. Flaggery's room, Heather Stevens was in the perfect frame of mind to turn around and throw the lunch tray at him and then just walk out of the infirmary and keep walking.

"Nasty old coot," she muttered under breath, as she just stood outside the door. She was soooo tempted to leave this patient wearing his roast beef and gravy; "That'd warm him up," she muttered again then sighed and started down the hall to the rolling rack which held the food trays that was brought in each meal time. But as she approached it, Heather stopped in her tracks and stared unabashedly at the young man that rounded the corner and strode quietly down the hall past her.

‘Ohhh mama!’ she thought, half turning to watch the best rear view of any man she'd seen today. Long legs clad in close fitting jeans, work boots and best of all, no shirt to hide his warm tan, the color of her favorite caramel candy. For a second she allowed herself to be mesmerized by the smooth, muscular contours of his back and his broad shoulders.  Licking her lips slowly, Heather's thoughts followed the eye candy that had appeared as if out of the blue, and who apparently had no idea of his effect on her.  Vaguely remembering something about a tray, Heather moved slowly forward, wishing she could do more than just follow him with her eyes, then...

CRASH!.... CLATTER!

Red-faced, Heather, swore under her breath as she hastily reached to clean up the mess of Mr. Flaggery's uneaten lunch. But even as Mrs. Hendricks was getting on her case about daydreaming...again... somewhere in the back of her mind, Heather Stevens had rounded another corner in pursuit of a certain item of eye candy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

        Peter Hugen had finished his lunch in the cafeteria and returned to the infirmary, his full purpose to check on Tala and Zoë.  As soon as he made it to the recovery room, he had found the nurse tucking Tala once more in bed.  “What did I miss?” he asked in confusion as he saw Edward Grant approach the office door.

        “You missed one hell of a family reunion,” Edward stated with a smirk.  “It was absolutely priceless.”  Edward looked from Zoë to Peter then headed toward the bed where Tala laid knowing full well what Peter had told him earlier about staying away from her and how that would irk him alone. 

        As he approached, his eyebrow raised not only in curiosity but also in apprehension of what could happen with the lovely young lady in the bed.  “Why Tala, I’m so glad that you decided to grace our presence once again.”   He leaned forward and lightly touched her cheek right above the bruise that was there.  “Don’t worry too much, Tala, all will be right.”

        “Get your hands off my daughter,” Zoë growled at him in fury at the sight of him even coming near her made her want to spit at him.  She knew what kind of man he was and she didn’t like it that he was giving her daughter any attention at all.

        Looking over at Zoë, Edward grinned.  “My patient first before your daughter, Dr. Malvison.” To prove his point, he laid his hand on her wrist and began to take her pulse.  Counting quietly and a bit longer than needed, he turned his attention back to Tala and smiled at her.

        Tala smiled gently back at the man standing beside her then when he let go of her hand, she turned her back to the woman who was in the opposite bed, wanting to just be away from her.  She didn’t want to talk to her; she didn’t want to even look at her.  She had already decided point blank that she didn’t want anything to do with Dr. Zoë Malvison.

        Edward turned his attention back to Zoë who was scowling at him and grinned.  Then with a small bow of his head, turned and laughed lightly as he went back to the room off the side of the recovery room.

        Peter walked over to where Zoë lay scowling at the other man and took her pulse.  It was racing more than it needed to and Peter clicked his tongue in response.  “You need to calm yourself, Dr. Malvison,” he informed her formally.  “It’s either that or I’ll be prescribing a sedative…”

        “No,” Zoë told him point blank.  “I will not sleep until I’ve spoken with my daughter.

        “Well, then you’d better make it fast.”  He walked away from her bed to go to the medicine cabinet to get the syringe and the medicine to inject into it.

        Zoë looked toward Tala’s bed and swallowed a couple of times trying to find the right words.  She opened her mouth to speak but then quickly closed it.  She didn’t know what to say to her other than the truth… and it was even harder to say.

        “Tala,” she said after a long moment.  “You want to know why I gave you up?  Then turn and look at me.”

        Tala lay on her side bottled up inside of her, but heard her mother talking to her.  “No,” she said softly, defiantly.  “If you have something to say… say it.”

        “Very well, Tala,” Zoë said after a moment of hesitation.  She wondered for a split second then plundered on with the truth, as she knew it.  “I would have made a horrible mother for you.  I have a horrible temper and little tolerance for anything or anyone that can be construed as annoying.  I would have more likely have killed you before you even turned one.”  Zoë took a deep breath and continued, “But that doesn’t mean that I wanted to give you up.  Giving you up was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life and, after I did, I was not allowed the option of changing my mind.”

        Listening to her, Tala let the tears fall.  There wasn’t anything that she could say or do to change anything that had happened over the past twenty-four years of her life.  “I see,” she said softly.  “If that’s all, then I’d like to be alone, please.”  She slightly rocked herself back and forth and began to sing that song again lightly under her breath trying to calm herself but not succeeding, as she began to feel her chest squeeze tightly against her.  It was hard to breath and she uncurled form the tight ball she was in and tried her best to calm herself down more, but the attack was already too far underway.

        The moment that her daughter started to sing, it was too much for Zoë to bear.  If her legs were working, she would have gotten out of the bed and taken her into her arms to calm her.  She recognized the symptoms immediately of the asthma attack and called to Hugen.

        Peter Hugen went immediately to Tala and quickly assessed her situation before placing her inhaler into her mouth.  “Breathe deeply,” he instructed her just before making the depression and sending the medication into her mouth.

        Tala did as instructed and breathed in the medication from the inhaler but still felt the tightness of her chest still bothering her and she looked up at him nervously wondering if he was going to give her more.

        Peter waited for a moment until he was certain that she was obeying his instructions before removing the inhaler and stepped away from her.  He gave Zoë a glare, knowing that this attack was brought on by her words.  However, he was taken aback from the motherly concern he saw on her face.  She seemed to be really honestly worried about Tala, an oddity since she never once seemed to care what happened to her before she knew that she was her daughter.

        Peter could see that Tala was fighting a touch of panic, as the medication from the inhaler seemed to be working a bit slowly.  He couldn’t help looking across at Zoë, whose eyes hadn’t left Tala since she was brought in.  Hearing a raspy gasp, he returned his attention back to her.  “Slowly,” he told her gently.  “Don’t fight so hard, Tala.  You’re breathing okay,” he assured her.  “Just wait for the medicine to kick in.” 

Tala looked up at him and saw that Dr. Hugen was looking across the room.  She knew that he was looking at her mother and she just closed her eyes and reached for him once again as she wanted the inhaler once more. 

        Peter looked down at the hand that reached out toward him and took a few steps back to her.  It was then that he heard her request. 

        “May I go… to my… quarters… please?  I’ll… take… my inhaler… with me.”

        Peter shook his head.  “Not right now,” he told her firmly.  When she pursed her lips with the intent to plead further, he simply repeated, his first answer, “No Tala.  You’re staying here until otherwise told so.”  Seeing her disappointment in her eyes, he just told her softly, “Like it or not, Tala, it’s for your own good.  I want to be sure that you don’t have another attack so soon after this one.”

        Zoë hadn’t said a word, just watching the scene beside her with the knowledge that her daughter hated her.  Not that she blamed her.  She hadn’t exactly been the best mother to her, ignoring her own wishes to what was happening with her and her twin.  She had thought she was doing the best thing for them by staying completely uninvolved with them.  Now, she was finding her own fears of correction and disappointment coming back to bite her in the butt.

        Tala didn’t like what Dr. Hugen had to say, but she did know that he was telling this because he wanted her to be healthy.  She lay defeated on the bed and shook her head as she lay there.  “Can’t I be moved to another room?” she asked finally hoping that he would allow that.

        When Zoë heard the question, she turned her head to the ceiling and swallowed down the pain.  This was going to be a hard battle, trying to get Tala to at least spend a moment with her even on a professional basis much less speak as mother and daughter.

        “No,” Peter told Tala again.  “Perhaps if you were going to stay more than one night, I might consider it.  But I just want you here for a small time to keep an eye on you.”  He glanced across at Zoë again, seeing the emotions working in her expression, even thought she was looking up at the ceiling.  He returned his gaze to Tala.  “No, this will do just fine.”  He saw the spark of defiance come into Tala’s eyes and he quirked a brow at her.  “You really want to expend energy on an argument that you’re not going to win?” he asked.  “Why not just accept the situation and relax and let the medicine do what it’s supposed to do.”

        She knew that once Dr. Hugen had answered, there was a snowballs chance in hell that he’d change his mind.  Defeated, she winced as she lay back on her side.  The bruises and welts from the correction were bothering her terribly and there wasn’t an easy position to lie in that made her comfortable.  Even as she lay there, she brought her left hand up to her jaw line and couldn’t help but finger the bruise that was there.

        Zoë could see just how much pain Tala was in, even if her face was not toward her.  She looked to Hugen, her eyes with firm determination.  “May I have a wheelchair and some ointment?” she asked.  She didn’t think she had ever spoken with such respect to him ever before.  Something was different about her, she knew.  It was almost as if in the past day and a half had made her appreciate things that she hadn’t ever before.  In addition, she could feel her anger focused on only two people: Admiral Calavicci and the person who whipped her daughter and left the bruises on her face.

        Peter raised his eyebrows at Zoë’s request.  Never had she been so respectful toward him.  It seemed that this condition that she now required might have settled in with her conscious as well.  “I can get you one right now, but I have been authorized to get you one that’s motorized.  It will be in within a week.  I’ll go get the wheelchair for you, but I don’t want you to over-exert yourself.  Actually, I prefer that if you decide to move in it, that you have someone who will move you until your wound heals.  Do you understand that, Dr. Malvison?”

        Zoë didn’t like the idea of not being in control of the wheelchair but she could understand it.  Just moving her arms up over her head was a struggle.  “Very well,” she responded to his instructions.  “I will have someone move me as you suggest.”

        Peter look down at Tala who was now looking up at him.  The idea sprung to mind to make Tala do it, and even as the thought registered, he saw the distinct look in her eyes as she realized the same thing and then closed her eyes in response to it.  Thinking otherwise at the moment, Peter glance back at Zoë.  “Actually, Zoë, I think that Heather Stevens will be the person that I assign to you for the week until the other wheelchair comes in.” He glanced back down at Tala and watched as she let out the breath that she had been holding then yawned sleepily as the medicine began to work more like it should.

        Peter smiled down at her and moved a piece of hair out of her face and tucked it gently behind her ears.  “That’s right, Tala.  Just close those eyes and relax.  Let the medicine do its work and calm down.”  Looking over at Zoë once more, he moved away from her and started toward the door.  “I’ll be right back with Heather and the wheelchair,” he stated softly and left the recovery room.

        In the few moments that passed while Dr. Hugen was gone, Zoë just watched her daughter shifting carefully and knew how badly she was hurting.  Anyone who had been in correction knew how the welts just ached when anything touched them for long periods of time. The ointment she had requested was just precisely what Tala needed and she knew that it would help the way that she slept if she had some relief.  She bit at her lower lip and wished that Dr. Hugen would hurry up as Tala continued to move from her back to her side, trying to relax.

        The moment that Dr. Hugen and Heather Stevens came into the room, Zoë was more than ready to help her daughter.  Maybe not with words of encouragement, but just with her touch.  With Dr. Hugen and Nurse Steven’s help, they put her firmly into the chair and even placed a small belt around her to secure her inside the chair.  Zoë watched carefully as the nurse placed her feet gently on the steps and then moved to the table and get the ointment that she had requested earlier.  ‘Hugen must have told her,’ she thought as Nurse Stevens lightly smiled at her and wheeled her over to the other side where Tala was facing.

        Hearing the movement beside her bed, Tala opened her eyes and blinked as Zoë sat before her, a tube of ointment in her hands.  She looked up at Hugen and the nurse as they moved to the ends of her bed and they very carefully lowered her bed as low as it could go.  By the time that they were done, it was low enough that Zoë could reach across almost across Tala.

        Zoë looked at Tala as her eyes came back to her.  “Roll over on your stomach… dear.”  It was a shot at an endearment and it was said softly enough but the word sounded odd coming from Zoë but Tala did as she was instructed.  It was then that she heard more movement around her then felt the cool ointment being applied first to her upper right shoulder and lightly sighed, as the touch was gentle and caring.

        As Zoë tended to Tala’s back and arms that she could reach, Dr. Hugen touched Heather’s arm and motioned slightly with his head to move away and let her be.  Heather smiled and did as instructed and moved to the end of the room to wait for more instructions from Dr. Malvison.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

        Though he had left only thirty minutes before, Maxwell Robinson couldn’t help the smile as he strode back to the gardens after showering and dressing once more.  He had decided that if he was going to even try to get closer to the lovely redhead that he had helped back to the infirmary that he was going to give her a token of some kind.  The only ones that he ever gave to Zoë were the pink roses that he had planted just for her.  Looking around the gardens, he picked out the bush that had the prettiest, biggest red and white two roses that had just bloomed and picked them carefully.  Once picked, he placed them in the vase he had carried with him. 

        Smiling at the creation he had made, he went past the “kissing” pestering guards and shook his head weakly.  “If you can’t do any better than that… you should definitely try each other.”  The laugh that he got from them was enough to know that they enjoyed the joke.

        As he got to the infirmary, he headed toward the nurse’s station and got permission once more to head to the recovery room.  He walked the hallway with the roses and the nurses who passed him by that even commented on their loveliness and just smiled at them with a nod.  As he got to the door, he took a deep breath as he decided that this was the time like it or not and very slowly opened the door just in case they were asleep.

        He peered inside to see Dr. Malvison administering aid to Tala in a wheelchair.  He took a step inside then lightly bit at his lip as he heard something from Dr. Malvison.

        “See,” he heard her say softly.  “It’s better now… it’ll be better now, Tala.  You’ll see.  Just… give it some time.  I know it’s a lot to ask, but give… give us some time.”

        Tilting his head to the side and frowning at her words, he licked at his lips and realized that now wasn’t the time to bother the two of them.  He nodded slightly to himself as he glanced around the recovery room and saw the nurse staring at him.  He smiled at her and backed out of the room as quietly as he had come in.  He started away from the room with the vase in his hand and took a deep breath as he headed toward the nurse’s station once more.

        He was only a few steps away when the recovery room door opened and the nurse that he had nodded to showed up right behind him.  Closing the door gently behind her, she asked quietly as she stepped toward him with a smile.  “Do you want to see the ladies in the room?”

        “They… they’re busy… I’ll come back later,” he said softly as he looked down at the roses in the vase before him.

        “Are those for one of them?  I could give it to who they belong to, if you’d like,” Heather asked again as she stepped closer to the hunk that had made her drop the tray earlier.

        Maxwell looked down at the vase then handed it toward her.  “These are for Tala,” he said simply.  “Please let her know who sent them.”

        “I sure will, Mr. Robinson.  I’m sure that she’ll appreciate them.”

        Max smiled at her and nodded himself.  “I hope so.” 

With that he turned and walked away leaving her standing in the hall watching him walk away once more.  Heather Stevens blew out a deep breath and shook her head amazed at the man walking away.  “Why can’t I get roses from someone like him?” she asked before she headed back toward the room.

PART TWO

"Jennifer?" Elliot spoke her name again. Seeing her arch one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, he hastily amended his address. "Ms. Thebes... are you alright?"  Gawd, he hated this bitch, even though he admired her at the same time.

Talmadge Industrial Securities was known in the business world as one of the toughest places in the country to get past the front door, and the number of Talmadge Industrial Securities' female employees made up only twelve percent of their employees throughout their several locations in the country.  Jennifer Thebes, however, had not only gotten through the door, but she had systematically worked her ass off to climb the corporate ladder. She was as cut throat as any man in her field, and God help anybody, male or female, that took her college cheerleader good looks to mean that there wasn't anything residing under the French twist that she always wore.

What kept most of the men on their toes, and on the 'right side' of her, was her known penchant for backstabbing. She'd never been caught in anything. Though there had been plenty of accusations, nothing had ever stuck, and in the four years since he'd made it past the front door, Elliot had heard plenty of stories, even witnessed one incident. Right now, all he wanted to do was deliver the message from the CEO of the company, get her response and report back to Mr. Willis so he could get the hell out of the building. Now he watched her watching him, and wondering what man in the company had the cajones to want to get under her skirt. Not him, that was for damn sure.

"Ms. Thebes?" Elliot spoke her name again. "Ma'am?"

~*~*~*~*~

As soon as the handsome one corrected the name with just a twitch of an eyebrow, Johanna knew that he was either afraid of this woman... or he hated her.  What an even better way to start out a leap.

Standing using only her leg muscles and barely touching a thing, she moved away from her desk as she put a hand up to her cheek.  She took approximately four steps away from her desk and pivoted to look at him, her head cocked slightly then openly made a survey of his body.

Tilting her head back slightly, she licked at her lips.  "Which proposal are you talking about?  Do you *know* how many reports come across that desk?  I... may already have it done."

*At least she's not snapping* was the first thought to cross Elliot's mind in response to her question.  He knew, from observation of others and a couple of unexpected run-ins with Jennifer Thebes, that as long as she wasn't snapping, a person usually escaped her office with his or her head...and other body parts.... intact.

"The Carson-Whitman Industrial Gems proposal," Elliot spoke clearly, meeting her assessing gaze.

"Ohhh... that one. Let me see..."  Giving him one more swift look and a self-satisfying smirk of glee with a fleeting thought of 'this bitch better have gotten this done... I have more important wo...'  "Here it is… Carson-Whitman...” Johanna picked up the document on her desk and looked at the title just as he said it.  She flipped through the report and saw that it had the appropriate ending then tapped it closed. 

Turning once more and walking over to the oh-so-fine one, she finger-tipped her manicured nails up his chest and with her left hand raised the file.  "Tell me something..." she said as her nails reached his neck then reached up to trace his jaw line.  "Tell me why you think that this proposal is on everyone's mind... give me your thoughts. I'd like to know what you think…and don't give me some lame ‘but you never wanted it before’ ... I do now."

From the instant Jennifer Thebes touched the first fingernail to the front of his shirt, Elliot knew that she was up to her favorite game - cat and mouse... and he knew who the mouse was.

’All I wanted was to get an answer.... a QUICK answer from her… and then go home to Gina’ he thought.  But that wasn't to be, at least not yet.

Swallowing slowly then straightening up a bit more, he said carefully, "You know as well as we all do, Ms. Thebes, that Mr. Willis has been negotiating with the Carson-Whitman people in London about taking over their international accounts for some time.  " He paused to swallow again, wishing his throat weren't so dry.  He felt a bit like a kid on a dare in the principal's office sneaking a peek at the report cards.  It wasn't something that was secret in the company, but junior vice-presidents weren't expected to debate the CEO's decisions with the analysts.  Noticing the way Jennifer...Ms. Thebe's... green eyes were glittering, the 'out of left field thought' crossed his mind... ”Do snakes wear contact lens?’  Brushing that aside, he continued.

"As you must be...are aware, ma'am," Elliot went on, taking care to choose his words selectively in the hopes of escaping whatever trap of whatever size it was she was baiting.  “When Mr. Willis began discussions with Carson-Whitman seven months ago, their Australian and Indian diamond interests were dropping off, as well as their sapphire interests in Africa. But in the last several weeks, the climate of industrial gemstones has started to improve.”  He licked his lips, not caring for Jennifer’s too close proximity, then ignored the notion and went on.  “We’ve been tracking and analyzing their situation.  The analysis…”  He glanced at the report in her left hand then back to her eyes.  “…which Mr. Willis is going to read before presenting it to them while he’s in London, shows that the Australian and Indian interests, and especially the opals out of Australia, have been regaining ground and should show a strong, steady resurgence by the next quarterly reports which come out the end of next week.  When…” he emphasized the word, “…that happens, Carson-Whitman’s profit margin will not only go up several percentage points, but it also means a small but significant increase in gains to the shareholders.”  It unnerved him a bit when the dark-haired woman didn’t say anything, didn’t blink as she listened to him.  “And when that happens, it’s a near sure bet that Carson-Whitman will come over to Talmadge.”

For a moment he thought he had escaped with the first run through the gauntlet.  Wrong; that was just the warm-up run.

‘Oh, God!’ was all he could think.  Johanna nodded at his thought then abruptly turned and headed toward the desk with the file in her hand.  It was apparent that this cat knew a lot about this company... just how could she do something to her advantage...

It was then that she spied the intercom to the secretary that was obviously on the other end.  'Great!' she thought. 

Hitting the button, she said, "I need the Carson-Whitman Industrial Gems proposal to be taken to Mr. Willis before he leaves for his flight.  And please let him know that I'm busy with my own meeting and that I'll be in contact."

Quickly, a brunette receptionist came half-trotting into the room, gave somewhat of a bow, grabbed the proposal from Johanna's hand and left just as quickly.

Turning her attention back to the hunk, she walked back toward the brown leather couch that was against the wall and sat down on it gingerly.  "I know that this is going to sound... oh, I don't know... odd and out there, but let's pretend that I am someone who knows nothing about this company.  Explain the goals of this company, why I would want to begin a job here and..."  she patted the couch beside her indicating that he could so sit if desired, "... fill me in on the administration... etc.  You know... the whole shooting match."

Jennifer Thebes' office was the last place Elliot had expected to be, or for that matter, wanted to be on a Friday evening, especially when this Friday also happened to mark his seventh wedding anniversary, and there was no such thing as brushing her off and walking out.  No, she had too much pull with Jackson Willis, the CEO, to entertain that idea.   So, Elliot Snowbury, second junior vice-president of the company, only recently promoted to that position, opted to remain standing with a safe fifteen or so feet of space between him and the tall, dark-haired and too good-looking witch in a business suit.  Deciding to play along for the time being, he cleared his throat a bit as he faced her directly.

"Talmadge Industrial Securities, has been in business since 1933," he began, looking directly in her eyes.  "We have offered our services to hundreds of clients across the country and several, in more recent years, in the international community.  The founder, Hawthorne Talmadge, started the business during the Great Depression, and came out the top dog in his field in spite of it.  Even during the Second World War and the Korean War, Talmadge Securities, as it was known then, managed to achieve record profits for our clients."  He paused when he saw boredom dull the expression in the eyes of his audience of one.  Thinking quickly, he shifted directions and started in about the high-level directors and such that had started at the bottom with the company and moved up then on to other and higher positions, some even going on into high government jobs.  After he gave a brief summary of the company’s holdings, both domestic and foreign.

It was, as far as Elliot was concerned, the longest sixty-two minutes of his life.  All that mattered, though, was the fact that somewhere in amongst all the facts he'd spouted like a parrot on hyper drive, a pleased expression had crept across Jennifer Thebes' face.  He could only hope.

"...and that's about all there is to know, ma'am," he at last concluded.  "At least, it's all that I know about the company."

Licking his lips, Elliot silently hoped it was enough.  To ensure that it would be, he mentally crossed his fingers and waited to see if the cat had toyed with this mouse to her satisfaction.

It was amongst all the blathering that Elliot... thank you Elliot for your name... mentioned just the thing that Johanna wanted to hear.

Taking everything that he said into account, she lightly pressed her lips together as she stood up beside the couch.  It was then that Johanna couldn’t take it any longer.

Reaching up, she grabbed at the hair clips holding her host’s hair up and released them.  It was only then that she realized why it was all up.  This Jennifer Thebes had a head of hair!  "This is driving me... " Johanna began then just did a quick flip of her head and let the hair fall.  It amazed her that the woman's thick, glossy brown hair that now rested just below her shoulders, wasn't all crinkled up from having been up in the tight French twist.

Turning to meet Elliot's awed gaze, Johanna walked by him, went to her desk, flipping the clips on the desk before turning back to him.  "That was absolutely amazing, Elliot," she said honestly.  "I think that it's time that I institute a little authority... and mention what a good lecturer you are, Elliot."

Seeing the awed expression on his face drop even more, she walked up to him, leaned over and gently kissed his cheek.  "That is if you don't mind..."

Hearing Jennifer compliment him about being a good lecturer was, as far as Elliot was concerned, both a compliment and, he suspected, a dig at his position in the company.   Okay, so he was still ‘green’ in his new capacity as second junior vice-president. But after four years at Talmadge he'd gained lots of experience, and having learned by observation, as well as the fact that he was still employed, Elliot knew that he was still considered an asset to the company, and therefore didn't appreciate the dig.  Still, Jennifer was the ranking senior international securities analyst at this branch of Talmadge Industrial Securities, and her pull with the CEO, something that surpassed even him, made her a dangerous individual to cross.

"Thank you, Ms. Thebes," he responded then didn't move, more than a bit shocked when he realized her intent, then felt her warm lips on his cheek.  This was not good, not good at all.  From that thought, the second junior vice-president of Talmadge Industrial Securities, Washington Division, made a giant leap to reminding himself to make the men's room his first stop once he escaped this spider woman's lair in order to scrub the dark plum-colored lipstick from his face.  If Gina saw any trace whatsoever, he'd be bunking in the backyard with the dog.

Clearing his throat softly, he asked evenly, "If there's nothing else, Ms. Thebes..." he was careful to emphasize the title. "May I leave now? My...wife is expecting me home."  Seeing Jennifer's dark brows arch in question, he added, "We're going out for dinner.  It's our anniversary."  He hoped that maybe, just maybe she would be understanding and retract her claws and allow him to escape with as much dignity as possible.

Johanna Royden took a step back from Elliot and immediately understood several things.  She had less than four hours now to finish her assignment and she wasn't about to let anything stop her from completing her mission.  And she was sure that Lothos wouldn't mind her messing up a marriage in the midst of her mission either.

PART THREE

Vaughn, once he and Johanna cleared the double doors of the lecture hall, cleared his mind of everything except the few scraps of information Thames had given about the second challenge. Again, he would be going in blind, but that wasn't all that unusual.  Many times an impromptu leap was a blind start, but that hadn't ever slowed him down or stopped him. As for coercion or blackmail... as far as this leaper was concerned, this challenge was going to be a cakewalk.

Entering the Accelerator Chamber Number Three, he silently waited for then followed the technician's instructions when the chamber was ready. Moments later, as the first tendrils of electricity and waves of power began to wash over and through his body, Vaughn was ready for anything. Nothing or no one, in the present or anywhere in the past, was going to keep him from winning the right to replace Dr. Zoë Malvison as Senior Leaper. After Lothos there was no higher authority than the Senior Leaper, at least among the leapers.

Vaughn relaxed into the power flow and closed his eyes, tilting his head back and let go. In what seemed a nanosecond and eternity, he felt the nothingness that he was fade and reality reclaiming him.

*I'm ready for anything,* he declared in his mind. *Bring it on!* and then he opened his eyes...

Only his training as a leaper and prior leaping experience enabled the tall, dark-haired leaper to nail his feet to the floor and not flinch when he found himself staring down the barrel of what he was fairly certain was a .357 Magnum. Carefully he swallowed then let his eyes wander beyond the muzzle of the gun to the face of the person apparently intending to paint the walls with his host's...now, his... brains.

        This was a first. Not that his life was in danger; Vaughn had faced and dealt with and overcome any number of life-threatening situations since becoming a leaper. But opening his eyes to find a gun almost against his forehead ... this was a first. Licking his lips carefully, Vaughn opened his mouth...then closed it when he heard the gun being cocked.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Veronica Monroe snarled as she cocked the trigger on the .357 Magnum as she had it poised before the man who had screwed up for the final time.  It was going to be a pleasure to toss his ass out of this facility more than she cared to admit, but at least she knew that she was more can capable to do it.  "I said, don't move, Mr. Pridgett.  Keep your hands were they can be seen and there won't be any trouble.  The moment that you do drop them, or try anything is the moment that I'll put a bullet into your body.  Do you understand?"  Lester Pridgett blinked then nodded.  "I see that you do.  Now... care to tell me why you decided to go into the lab tonight and take something that wasn't yours?"

*Okay, that's two... the who... I'm some guy named Pridgett.  And the where...I'm in a lab.*  The thoughts zipped through Vaughn's mind as he took care to obey the woman with the gun shoved almost against his head.  Wherever he was, the security level was high for her to be stating that if he so much as sneezed, that she'd put a round between his eyes or some other equally fatality likely area of his body.

"Since when is it against the rules for a..."  *What?* he wondered then decided that he had at least a small degree of chance on his side that he'd at least come close.  "...a member of the doctor's own research team to work late...in the lab?" he asked, keeping his tone and attitude respectful but with an edge of uneasiness.  Acting too confident would likely get him shot.  Right now, confidence, or too much of it, might be misconstrued that he was here for suspicious reasons. 

Fixing the tall, rather ordinary-looking blonde guard before him with a straight gaze, Vaughn did as ordered, and kept his hands up.  "What have I done to get the "Hey you, up against the wall routine?"  Clearly it wasn't the smartest thing to have said.

Veronica took a step forward and leaned the barrel of the gun up against Lester's eye causing him to turn his head toward the wall.  "Do you think that I'm a joke, Mr. Pridgett?  Let me assure you that I am not.  This is also not a way that I decidedly pick up men, either... if you want to play it that route either.  Just understand that I have a job to do and I'm going to do it." 

Veronica looked over at the wall where a list was filled out and eyed it.  "The schedule says that you aren't supposed to be here for another two hours and there isn't any paperwork on the vial that you have in your pocket that wasn't supposed to be removed.  So, Mr. Pridgett, take you right hand, put it in your pocket and hand me the vial, but I'm warning you, sir... I've had about eight cups of coffee and I'm wired.  Any false move could land you in the next grave in the city cemetery on Maple Street."

Moving slowly, Vaughn lowered his right hand and slid it into the right pocket of the lab coat he was wearing.  Almost instantly his fingers encountered the slim shape of a small vial.  Again, now wasn't the time to speculate or get cute, especially the latter.

Withdrawing his hand from the pocket, he brought out the vial and carefully lifted it so he could look at the jotting on the narrow label strip, rolling it as he read.  It was a chemical equation, or part of one, that seemed vaguely familiar.  He wasn't a chemistry buff or anything, but it seemed like something that was commonplace.  Vaughn frowned as his mind worked to pull up the information.  There was no not starting, momentarily startled when the muzzle of the Magnum was gently placed between his eyes.  His gaze flew to the blonde's decidedly unamused dark brown eyes.

"You deciding to have tea or coffee when this is over, Mr. Pridgett, or are you just playing one of the more witless versions of "How Stupid Can I Be?""

He couldn't help the corner of his mouth starting to curl up in a slow smile; something in what she had just said filled in the missing puzzle piece of information.  Once more he looked at the slender, medium length vial with the brownish fluid in it.  Feeling a little more 'safely' confident, the leaper lifted his head slightly, still keenly aware of the cold steel of the gun mimicking his movement.

"I didn't think that a test tube of sassafras extract was a matter of national security," Vaughn said to her.  The way her eyes narrowed made it clear that she wasn't buying it.  Reaching to pull the rubber stopper from the top, he felt the pressure of the gun barrel against his temple increase slightly as the guard applied some weight behind the gun.

"It's just a concentrate of an herbal tea common to the Southern states....ma’am," Vaughn decided to see what that suggestion got him.  Watching her face, he thought he saw a flicker of something in her eyes, and decided to turn on a little charm.  Smiling slightly he asked, "Am I under arrest for using a test tube to keep a little tea in the frig over there?"  Seeing those dark eyes narrow again, he upped the ante on the charm a bit more.  "Mama always said to keep some sassafras tea handy.  It's good for the nerves, and Lordy knows...." he let his gaze flick around the laboratory that was empty save for them. "If ever there was a place for nerves, this is it."  He watched her, wondering if she was going to buy it.

Veronica Monroe glared at the man before her and was more than appreciated that he was at least trying to work his way out of the mess that he was in.  She shook her head slightly then blinked once.  "For all I know, Mr. Pridgett, that's something else that we keep in the lab.  I don't know what's in the tube and I'm not going to be the one to taste it... but you will.  Won't you... that is if it is really sassafras tea.  Why don't you take a good swallow of it?"

Vaughn watched her for a moment, the now open test tube of brownish liquid held in his right hand between, as if offering her the chance to taste it first.  Clearly, though, this blonde with the attitude wasn't about to offer to be a guinea pig.

"If you insist," Vaughn said, and started to lift the tube to his mouth, only to freeze again when the muzzle of the gun pressed harder against his cheek, just below his left eye.  He got the point.

"Nice and slow," he said to her and when she relaxed a bit, lifted the test tube closer to his lips.  Even as the now unstoppered test tube came closer to his nose, internally Vaughn relaxed a bit.  If there was one thing he had learned from an older-than-dirt great aunt while still a child, it was the fragrance properties of sassafras.  He hated the stuff but Great Aunt Madeleine had taught him well.

"Here's mud in your eye," he saluted the suspicious woman lightly then moving carefully, put the test tube to his lips and swallowed the liquid in it.  It took a little doing, but Vaughn managed not to grimace at the taste, though he couldn't hide the little shudder that came over him.

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