The blonde looked up from where she was sitting on the steps of the FX van. She observed the tall, lanky Australian unhappily. The man looked exhausted, cold and hurt. Despite attempts to dry him out from his dip in the one of the park's small ponds and the blanket wrapped around him, his clothes were still damp and the cold wind left him shivering. With a soft sigh, she stood up and aside, allowing the man to enter the van ahead of her. Silently, he took a seat in the back of the van and she climbed into the driver's seat. Not a word passed between the subdued couple as the blonde woman, her beauty marred by cuts and bruises, started the van and pulled away from the scene of Rollie Tyler's latest encounter with the international criminal, Victor Loubar.

The drive back to the old converted brewery was made in total silence. They pulled inside and as the doors closed, the blonde pulled the lanky Aussie up and out into the warmth of his home. Rollie made an abortive move to fall on to the nearest couch, but the woman didn't let go. Still silent, she guided him out by way of the hidden exit in the telephone booth. He followed meekly, going where guided by her, getting into the back of a large black automobile with deeply tinted rear windows. The large car purred as it pulled away and after going several blocks, pulled into a covered garage. They transferred to another car, this one wasn't as large and was white. The rear windows still held that deep tint, hiding them from observers. The white car left by another exit and drove for several miles, heading toward the Jersey Turnpike. It pulled into an all night garage and the couple moved into yet another car. This one was deep maroon. It left the garage and headed back into the city. The ride was smooth and in the early morning hours, swift and undisturbed. The maroon car pulled into the underground parking for a large upscale hotel in the heart of Manhattan. Three steps, the blonde and Aussie entered an express elevator for the
penthouse floor.

The blonde watched the brown haired man quietly on the way up to the penthouse level. She winced at the guilt buried deep in the back of his expressive brown eyes. She winced again in unison with him when he moved and was reminded about his injured shoulder. Where he'd been shot... by her. Damn it! It wasn't fair! It wasn't suppose to turn out like this. The blonde hugged herself slightly and waited for their arrival on the top floor. Time to face the music, she thought as the doors slid open.

The other woman watched silently as Rollie perked up just a bit in Angie's arms. A small, sad smile of satisfaction appeared on her face. She stepped away from the couple, out of the elevator to face a man in a business suit. His attire was impeccable and his face was calm as he looked at the woman. "Agent Garrett, was our objective achieved?"

"Yes, Chief MacConnell," Angie's look alike responded in a softly accented voice, totally different from that of Angie Ramirez. She glanced back at the couple in the elevator. "I hope it was worth it, sir." She passed a vial and piece of paper to her superior. He nodded as he removed a tiny remote from his pocket. He pushed a button and her face changed into mask. She pulled it off and shook her head, hair flying, relieved to be out of the experimental mask. It was comfortable, unbelievably realistic and had been driving her nuts for three days. It was good to have it off. She smiled grimly as she thought of Victor Loubar and the dangerous game they had played. She chuckled softly, "Loubar would have killed for this mask. It's even better than his latest," as she fingered the bruises and cuts on her face. Bruises and cuts that had been echoed perfectly by the mask she had worn.

"Let us be grateful Loubar doesn't know about it. And hope he never does." The Interpol chief clucked slightly as his gaze took in the damaged and damp Australian. "Ms. Ramirez?"

Angie locked eyes with the older man, still holding her partner. "Yes, Chief MacConnell?" Her eyes and face betrayed the worry she'd been through the last three days.

"I think it would be best, if you put Mister Tyler to bed. He has obviously been through quite enough lately." The Scots informed the young woman.

Angie nodded and coaxed Rollie out of the elevator and down the hall, past the men in dark suits that lined the hall at carefully calculated intervals. She lead him to the suite in the middle of the hallway, as far away from any means of access as the Interpol agents could place her... them. She shivered slightly as she helped Rollie shed the blanket and coat. Winced as she saw his bandaged shoulder. Damn it! It wasn't suppose to be like this. Angie remembered the moment, three days ago, when she realized with sickening dread that Rollie Tyler was not Rollie Tyler. It had taken every ounce of control that she possessed to pretend, to act like she didn't notice that Victor Loubar wasn't Rollie Tyler. At her first opportunity, she'd notified Chief Fergus MacConnell, putting into motion the plan that she and Rollie had concocted when Interpol first contacted them. A plan that was set in place and waiting when they realized Victor Loubar was on his way back to New York City. For the last three days, Angie Ramirez had sat idly on the sidelines, hoping and praying that Rollie was still alive. That Victor Loubar was continuing his mistake of allowing the only man who could beat him to live. Agent Anne Garrett had been carefully coached in the life, times, habits and mannerisms of Angela "Angie" Ramirez and Roland "Rollie" Tyler. Primed and ready to replace Angie Ramirez at a moment's notice if... If Loubar decided to involve the special effects wizard in his schemes again. Only one person on the entire planet had been able to see through her performance. As Angie saw through Loubar's masquerade, Rollie saw through Anne's.

At first, the Interpol agents had been wary of possible flaws, but Rollie and Angie convinced them that Angie would recognize Loubar and that Loubar would not see through Agent Anne Garrett. In a critical move, one that Garrett had waited for with gritty determination, she had engaged in sex with Victor Loubar, allowing him to believe she was deceived. All for the purpose of acquiring DNA that could be used to track Loubar down and make it impossible for him to hide. Her only regret was that Rollie Tyler had been deeply hurt in the process. Even though he'd been aware of the planned replacement, he never guessed how close Agent Garrett would allow Loubar to get. She'd been stunned by the amount of pain and guilt that filled Rollie Tyler's eyes when he found out. As if... As if it was truly his fault and it had happened to Angie Ramirez. It was in that moment that she recognized something Angie and Rollie had not told the Interpol team. That Rollie Tyler and Angie Ramirez were deeply, completely, hopelessly in love with each other. Loubar's plan had failed due to that simple fact and theirs had succeeded because the special effects team had hidden their love successfully.

Rollie stood, the pain in his eyes overwhelming. He considered the question dully, then nodded a tentative yes. The blonde steered him to the large bathroom and started the water, making sure the temperature was warm enough and the flow was gentle so it wouldn't hurt him. She placed some soft sweats on the mirrored vanity, then helped remove the bandages from his shoulder. When Angie moved to leave him to his privacy in the bathroom, he reached convulsively for her, then settled back with a sad sigh. Of course she couldn't stay. They weren't in that type of relationship... yet. That would come in time, if and when they were both ready. Rollie knew it would come when Angie became his wife. She was already his life and one day she would be his wife... If she was willing, naturally. He closed his eyes as he worked his jeans and underwear off, awkward with only one hand really available. Finally, stripped, he panted and stood there shaking for a moment, before stepping into the warmth of the shower. He sighed softly as the water poured gently over him, not pounding. Angie had set it just right to take in account his wounded shoulder. Slowly, his body warmed under the water and some of his shaking subsided.

The Aussie almost dozed off under the warm shower. He jerked awake and shook himself slightly, stepping out and cutting off the shower. Using a couple of the large, fluffy, warm towels, he dried himself off. He reached over and turned off the towel warmer, then pulled his sweat pants on, tying them carefully. Carrying his sweatshirt, he stepped into the bedroom, to find Angie waiting with a large, very complete first aid kit. Bandages, antibiotic ointment, tape and scissors were sitting on the bed beside her, waiting for him to get out. Silently, Rollie went to sit next to her, waiting patiently for her to bandage his shoulder again. She completed her task with efficient carefulness, then slid a new sling on to hold his arm steady.

"Are you all right, Rollie?" Angie asked gently, softly stroking his damp hair.

The Aussie nodded silently, not meeting her eyes.

Angie frowned and touched his chin, turning him to face her. "Rollie." Her voice clearly carried her exasperation to him. "Don't lie to me. What's wrong? ... Besides the obvious."

Rollie shook his head, silent and unwilling to answer.

"Rollie." The blonde responded, anger touching her tone. "Answer me or I'll go ask Agent Garrett what happened!"

The Aussie looked at Angie with wide, hurt eyes. It was almost enough to get Angie to relent. Almost, but not quite. Something was wrong and if it affected Rollie, it affected her. Seeing Angie's stubborn determination, the brown haired man very reluctantly responded. "Loubar... He... He raped Agent Garrett." He hung his head in shame. "He... he was me and he raped her."

"Rollie, Anne already knew he wasn't you. She knew!" She moved closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist, offering comfort. "Why did Loubar do it? Did he guess she wasn't me?"

Rollie shook his head and swallowed hard. "He... He thought she was you. He.. he... wan.. wanted to.. to..." He closed his eyes and shook, unable to continue.

Angie's brow puckered in bewilderment, even as she pulled Rollie closer. "Shhh. Shhh. It's okay. It's all right. Shhh." She tried to soothe her obviously upset partner and best friend. Rollie buried his face against her shoulder. What? So, Loubar hadn't seen through the ploy, then why was...? Oh! "He was trying to separate us. To make me... distrust you?"

Rollie nodded, miserable and forlorn. "If... If you hadn't..." Rollie looked at her with his eyes full of pain. "I'm sorry, Angie." He finished in a tiny, bereft voice.

Angie's eyes closed for a moment. If Loubar had appeared in front of her at that very moment, she would gladly kill him with her bare hands. "Rollie, you have nothing to apologize for! This is not your fault!" She spoke the words, clearly and distinctly. "We both knew he was coming and we did what we could to handle it. You know Loubar can't fool me." She reached out to cup his face in her hands. "Rollie. Look at me. You know that! There is no way that Loubar could have fooled me! No way he could have pretended to be you and rape me. No way!" She gently stroked his drying hair, playing with the soft strands. "Rollie, you couldn't stop him from grabbing you. Not without hiding in a deep, dark hole and never, ever coming out again. You couldn't live like that. I would not ask you to live like that. So, we did what we could. Period. We're human, Rollie. We do the best we can do and then we go on. You taught me that. Remember?" She shook him gently. "Remember?"

Rollie nodded, a little of the pain erased from his deep brown eyes. The haunted look remained, but Angie thought she could make it go away with time. Of course, it would help if Interpol took Loubar out of commission. Why had Agent Garrett allowed Loubar to do that? She'd watched the agent in her work outs. The woman could have protected herself easily from unwanted attention. "So why did she let him?" Angie only realized that she spoken the last words aloud when Rollie hissed. She quickly looked up into her love's eyes and saw realization. "What?"

"She knew... She... Agent Garrett went in hoping Loubar would... Oh my God! Oh..." Rollie looked totally stunned by his thoughts.

"She wanted Loubar to rape her? That doesn't make sense."

"No," Rollie shook his head emphatically, "she wanted Loubar to have sex with her. Sh... she wanted..." She wanted what? Why do that? Why allow that? Rollie's mind raced, active for what felt like the first time in eons. "DNA. She wanted Loubar's DNA." He looked at Angie with stunned, raw understanding.

DNA? Angie echoed silently, then realized that Rollie was right. Anne Garrett had allowed Loubar to use her, sexually, to get... She shuddered at the thought. How could any one do that so... so coldly, so calmly? With such premeditation? How? Why? She shook her head, knocking her thoughts about the Interpol agent away. "Are you all right?" Rollie was the important one. Garrett had known what she was getting into, Rollie and she hadn't come close to even guessing.

"I... I... think so," Rollie looked at her, his eyes dark holes of exhaustion.

"Bed." Angie stood and turned down the covers. "Do you want your sweatshirt on?"

Rollie contemplated the shirt in his hands, then the room's temperature. It was warm in here. Warm by his standards, not Angie's or someone else's. He shook his head, standing and shuffling up beside her. He slipped under the covers she held up and sighed as his aching head touched the soft pillow.

Angie carefully tucked the covers under Rollie's chin. She stroked the hair from his face and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "Sleep tight." She watched Rollie thoughtfully. He was going to have nightmares. After what had happened it was only natural. The walls here were well insulated against noise and she wanted to be available when they happened. Silently, she slipped over to the other bedroom and changed into a soft T-shirt and knit shorts. She pulled the blanket from her bed and returned to Rollie's side. Careful to not wake him, she spread the blanket over Rollie and then slipped into the other side of the bed, over his covers and under her blanket. She slid over to Rollie's side and wrapped an arm carefully around his chest. With a silent sigh, Angie Ramirez closed her eyes and waited for sleep to claim her, confident that anything disturbing Rollie would wake her as well.

"Yes, ma'am." The man moved to face her, practically standing at attention.

"Rollie's running a high fever. He needs a doctor."

"Yes ma'am. I'll inform Chief MacConnell immediately." He began speaking into the small headset attached to the tiny radio on his belt.

Angie turned back to the bedroom, the agent dismissed from her mind. She got a wash cloth from the bathroom and ran cold water over it. Wringing the excess moisture from it, she moved back to Rollie's side, running the cloth over his face. "Shhh. It's okay, Rollie. It's okay." She started as an ice bucket was placed next to her, full of cold water and some ice.

"A doctor is on the way, Ms. Ramirez." Chief MacConnell spoke softly, his burr of an accent thicker.

Angie nodded, grateful for the news and the water. She dipped the cloth in it and wiped Rollie's face again, trying to lower his fever.

MacConnell moved to where the first aid kit sat on a nearby chair, forgotten. He extracted an electronic thermometer and turned it on. The chief came to sit on the bed next to Rollie and placed it on his forehead. They waited. It beeped and MacConnell frowned as he made note of the reading. "103^o" He shook his head. "Not good, Ms. Ramirez. Doctor Pulaski will be here soon."

Rollie moaned and his head tossed. Angie frowned, worry pinching her face. It was too high. Much too high. She wet the washcloth again and tried to soothe Rollie. Hoping that the Interpol chief was right and his doctor would be here - soon!

The Scots stood and silently padded to the door of the suite, to wait for Pulaski and give the couple in his charge some privacy. He hadn't liked involving civilians in the first place. Not even ones such as this couple. Both so willing and brave. Perhaps, most especially ones like these. Too few had the heart or the concern to do what they did. They did it though, without thanks or reward or recognition. He'd read the files on Rollie Tyler and Angie Ramirez carefully, before approaching them. They were exemplary. Better than his best in many ways. Special people indeed. He sighed in silent relief as he saw the fiery Doctor Pulaski burst from the elevator. "Doctor, this way if you please."

"Of course, Chief. What are the particulars?" The beautiful woman, her red hair streaked with gray, listened attentively as the Interpol Agent In Charge explained the four day ordeal Rollie Tyler had been through. The drugs, unidentified, which had kept him unconscious for a three day period. More unidentified drugs undoubtedly used to waken him. Level of care during that period, unknown. The pursuit he'd helped Agent Garrett with. His empathetic reactions to the agent. The fight in the pond and the shooting. The fever that had now appeared. She tsked. "Man should have been under a doctor's care immediately. Not running all over the city, looking for this criminal."

Chief MacConnell nodded his head in mute acknowledgment of the hit. She was right. They should have brought Tyler in immediately after his release from captivity. Not allowed him to try and help capture Victor Loubar. And certainly not allowing him to be shot by one of his own agents! That pond water was probably filthy. It would be a wonder if he wasn't running a fever now. "This way, Doctor Pulaski."

The doctor followed to the bedroom and immediately opened her bag. Pulling out a stethoscope, she looked at the young woman kneeling beside her patient. "Some privacy, please, Ms. I'll be done sooner." She watched the woman gently brush a kiss over the sick man's forehead, then follow the Chief from the room. The door closed softly behind them. "Now for you, young man. Let's see if I can find what's wrong here." She began a thorough medical examination.

Thirty minutes later, the doctor came out to find the young blonde pacing like a caged big cat and Chief Pulaski watching her prowl.

The woman immediately noticed and pounced. "How is he? Will he be all right? What's wrong?"

"Mister Tyler is a very ill young man, Ms. Ramirez. I... I'm afraid it's going to get worse before he gets better." She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "If he gets better."

"What... What do you mean?" Angie stammered, her blue eyes wide with fear.

Doctor Pulaski gestured for them to sit and crossed her hands at her back. "My examination reveals no infection of either the wound or of the type one would expect from swallowing," she grimaced slightly, "dirty water. In fact, I'm at a loss to identify exactly what is wrong with him. I believe he has been infected with an as yet unknown viral agent." She looked sharply to Chief MacConnell. "Deliberately infected."

Angie Ramirez inhaled sharply. "Loubar." She closed her eyes. Loubar had done this. One last attack on his nemesis... and her? She turned her attention back to the doctor.

Doctor Pulaski nodded. "Probably. I've taken samples from Mister Tyler and will have them tested immediately. However, I'm afraid that without knowing what was used..." She shrugged and spread her hands to show her helplessness.

Mira Sanchez fidgeted slightly in her car, thinking about the previous day's events. Damn it! Why? Why did Angie and Rollie have to be the ones who got hurt? She hated it, hated what had happened and hated what she had to tell them. There had been no sign of Victor Loubar. The arms dealer and assassin had once more escaped. Hopefully not totally unscathed though. Not this time. They'd found minute traces of blood on the other side of the pond. She sincerely hoped that they belonged to Loubar. With a sigh, she gathered herself together and slid out of the car. Time to face the music. She walked briskly to the door of 256 Brewery Lane and pushed the buzzer. She waited, stoically, no longer fidgeting, her professional mask firmly in place, divorcing herself from her emotional ties with this crime's victims.

Two minutes and a dozen buzzes later, that professional mask was slipping. Why wasn't anyone answering? She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Angie's apartment. Listening to the phone ring, waiting impatiently for the door to be answered, she became increasingly worried. No answering machine picked up, no one opened the door. Tired of waiting, worry etching her face, she pushed the buttons in the sequence to release the lock. She moved quickly inside and called out, "Rollie? Angie?" Sharp, dark eyes took in the FX van in it's normal spot and continued to scan the rest of the loft. Finding no signs of trouble or her friends, she bounded up the stairs. Blue barked at her when she came back down, shoulders slumped in defeat, puzzlement on her face. Where were they? Where was Rollie Tyler and Angie Ramirez? "Blue? Where are they? Where's Rollie?"

Blue responded with a soft growl and small bark. He trundled across the floor on his six legs, head turning this way and that.

"Blue?" Mira watched the robot's odd behavior. He (It! She'd been hanging around Rollie for too long since she was thinking like the little robot was alive.) appeared to be checking the loft, verifying it's status. Why? And where were Rollie and Angie?!?

Apparently satisfied, the little robot stopped and focused on the security monitor. With a soft bark and a whine, he turned it on and began to replay part of the previous night's footage. Mira watched in bewilderment as Angie silently led an equally silent and unusually meek Rollie through the loft and out the secret exit in the phone booth. Why? Where had they gone? Why was Blue showing her this? At least she knew Loubar hadn't come back and taken them. Biting off a curse, the Hispanic detective whipped out her cell phone again and punched in a familiar number. She growled when she heard a corresponding ring from the van. Damn! Damn! Damn! Rollie didn't have his cell! He'd left it behind in their haste to go... Where? Where had they gone? Why had they gone? She shook her head and headed for her car, carefully locking the loft's door behind her. She hit her speed dial and waited for Van Duran to answer. She didn't like this. Not one bit!

Victor Loubar looked at his unmasked face and smiled to himself in the mirror. Ah, revenge, revenge was sweet. All right, he'd failed to kill the Chinese Trade Minister, but there would be other... opportunities for that. The look on sweet, little Angela's face when she recognized him, knew that he wasn't her beloved Rollie. That, that had been delicious. Even the shocked look when she realized she'd shot the wrong man at the park was delicious. So what if she tried her damnedest to pump him full of holes afterwards? She'd failed. As all the others who'd tried had failed. He had a minor graze on his leg. Nothing major. It barely bleed and hardly hurt. Still, he had succeeded in his main goal. Angela Ramirez would never look at Rollie Tyler without wondering. And how long would Tyler be able to handle that? Having her watch him like that, waiting for it to be Loubar again. Still, Tyler wouldn't suffer too long. He had killed Rollie Tyler. He knew it, even if Tyler didn't realize it... yet. It was just... a matter of time. His smile widened into a hard, cruel grin. Oh yes, just a matter of time, before Rollie Tyler knew his fate. His deliciously, unavoidable fate. A long, slow, agonizing death awaited special effects wizard, Rollie Tyler.

Angie's attention was yanked away from the ill man at her side when her computer gave a soft musical chirp. What? Eagerly, she scanned the results. R Tyler? Surely, Loubar wasn't that arrogant or stupid. Still, he'd done it once before. The man was egotistical and ruthless and would find amusement in leaving, escaping under his nemesis' name. He would do it. Angie reached for the phone, calling Chief MacConnell.

Angie was chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip, staring at her discovery when the man arrived. Chief MacConnell cleared his throat, alerting the woman to his presence. She stiffened slightly and looked up at him. "I think I've found him."

"Found who?" Chief MacConnell frowned slightly. "How is Mister Tyler?"

"No better. Loubar. I found how he intends to leave."

"Loubar?" MacConnell sat in the chair beside the bed, his face eager.

Angie turned her laptop so he could see the screen. "I found seven R Tyler's with plane tickets out of LaGuardia."

"R Tyler?" He sat back with a sigh. "I doubt it. Tyler is a common enough name."

Angie clucked her tongue. "Don't you know anything about Loubar? He's done it before and besides, most people would have their full name on the ticket, not just an initial and last name. Robert, Richard or Rachel Tyler. Whatever." She glared at him, her eyes and face full of determination.

The Interpol Chief Agent In Charge nodded thoughtfully. "Well, it is something to check. I'll station agents at the check-in points for these flights."

Angie shook her head. "Do you actually think Loubar will just walk up to them and hand himself over to you? Besides, there may be other tickets. If he sees something suspicious, he could move to one we don't know about. You can't check everyone going through the airport. It's too big!"

MacConnell frowned. "What do you suggest then?"

"Put agents on the gates with those DNA detectors." She looked smug at the man's start. Bingo, Rollie, you were right, she thought silently. "Then, Agent Garrett is going to be me one last time." Her eyes became cold, hard diamonds. "Loubar is about to find out he's been suckered."

Chief MacConnell shook his head, guessing a little of what she was planning. "No. I won't allow you to place yourself in danger."

Angela Ramirez growled deep in her throat. "I won't allow Victor Loubar to escape. Not if his capture can save Rollie!"

The man had the grace to flush slightly. "What are you planning? How do you think Loubar will approach the gates, if not through check-in? And how will you know which gate?"

True, this would only work in one place. She and Anne couldn't be everywhere. She had to pick and pick right. With a frown, Angie turned the laptop back to face her and pulled up the plans for the airport. She placed stars at each of the possible gates. And frowned at the results. They were all over the airport. Thoughtfully, she added the destinations and times of each flight. Then frowned again. How? Which one? How to choose? One shot! They only had one shot! If she was wrong, Rollie Tyler would die. She felt the ache in her chest grow. The blonde started as she felt a hand touch hers.

Rollie struggled to sit up a bit, looking at the laptop with blurry, fevered eyes. He reached for the mouse pad with a shaky hand. Frowning in worry, but also curious, Angie angled the laptop to make it easier for her love to reach it and see it. She watched thoughtfully as Rollie carefully positioned the pointer and tapped. She'd tapped into the airport computer system for the schematics, so Rollie was able to pull up a different map - one not normally seen by the public. Of an entire virtually unknown city underground, hidden behind walls and panels and floors. The hidden support system that allowed an army of airport personnel to move, unseen and unnoticed, to do their jobs.

Of course! Angie smiled slightly. Loubar could easily hide in the midst of that unknown world until it was time to leave. But which one? Which flight was the real one? Which would he take?

Rollie opened his mouth to say something. All that came out was a croak. Chief MacConnell helped the sick man sip some juice. "Put up the other information, Ang." Rollie requested.

Angie nodded and layered the more familiar layout on top of the support system. She placed the stars, destinations and times back on the screen. The three people stared at the results, frowning. Wondering. Rollie Tyler pointed at one with a shaky finger and whispered. "That one."

Angie stroked Rollie's hair back from his forehead and looked at Doctor Pulaski. "Take good care of him, Doc." She placed a kiss on his cheek and whispered to him, "Wish me luck, Rol."

The look from the red-headed woman assured her that her partner, her love was in good hands. Steeling herself, the young blonde left with a stubborn look and a fury that caused her blue eyes to flash cold fire.

The doctor watched Angie leave with a look of something akin to awe in her eyes. "After what you convinced me to do? After you convinced Fergus MacConnell himself to take you with them, to let you help them? I wouldn't dare do any less, Angela Ramirez!" The declaration was made to a closed door and a man too sick to hear or understand if he did hear. The Australian's illness was growing progressively worse, he was unable to keep anything down and was now on an IV for dehydration.

Angie climbed into the back of the car with Chief MacConnell and Agent Garrett. At a nod from the older man, the agent slipped the mask back on and he activated it with a push of a button on the remote. The twin women faced each other with matching grins, wicked and determined. The blonde special effects expert examined her twin carefully, then opened the makeup case that Interpol had provided at her request. With a sure, delicate touch, she added the bruising and cuts that were visible on Anne's face to her own. She checked the job in a lighted makeup mirror and smiled at the results. The chief examined the two women carefully and nodded in approval. With a grim look, he offered Angie his cell phone.

She accepted it calmly and punched a familiar number. It was hard to appear calm and collected, but she had to keep the Interpol agents convinced that she was a professional and should be included in the capture. Angie had every intention of facing down Victor Loubar and extracting the cure for Rollie from him. Naturally, she'd need a little help. "Mira?"

"Angie!" Mira answered with relief. "Where are you? Where's Rollie? What...?"

"Mira, be quiet. I'm on my way to LaGuardia. Meet us at the North gate." Her eyes flashed fire. "We're going to give Victor Loubar a very big surprise."

"Loubar? A surprise? Angie, no! It's too dangerous. You can't face Loubar. I know he hurt you, but..."

"No, you don't know, Mira. You only think you do. Meet me at the North gate and I'll explain everything. And don't worry, Mira. We'll have plenty of backup with us."

"Angie," Mira started in protest, then glared at her cell phone as the other woman hung up on her. With a muffled curse, she made a hasty U-turn and headed for the airport, pressing down on the accelerator.

"Not here, Mira. This way." Angie's hand curled around her elbow and she led the police detective to a door hidden in the shadows behind stairs leading up to check-in and the concourses.

Mira followed reluctantly. Going after Loubar was crazy! She couldn't allow her friend to do this. It wasn't right. She opened her mouth to argue, but snapped it shut upon seeing the men in dark suits and Angie?!? The woman standing by the oldest man's side looked ... just ... like ... Angie. The Latino detective looked from one to the other, her worried concern replaced by total befuddlement.

"Detective Palmira Sanchez, NYPD, Mid-Town South. This is Interpol Chief Agent-In-Charge, Fergus MacConnell and Agent Anne Garrett." Angie hurried through the introductions. "We have to hurry. That flight leaves in a little over a hour. If we're going to catch Loubar, we have to be in place before he sees us."

Mira shook her head and frowned. "Angie, going after Loubar like this isn't wise. I know he hurt you and..."

"No, Mira. Forget what you know. What you need to know is this, that bastard injected Rollie with something. He's sick." She turned desperate eyes on her friend. "I mean really sick. If we don't find out what it is, Rollie... Rollie could... d..die." There, she'd said it. She actually admitted Rollie Tyler was or could be dying.

Mira dragged her breath in, stunned. Dying? Rollie? But... She looked closely at the woman who looked like Angie (Anne Garrett? Interpol?) and at Angie herself. "Angie, you've got a lot of explaining to do." She held up her hand before the younger woman could protest. "Later. Now, what do we do? And why do you think Loubar will try to be on this flight?" Her brow puckered, that seemed to be the consensus, that Victor Loubar was going to be on an, as yet, unspecified flight.

"I don't, not specifically. I found several possible flights. Rollie thinks it will be this one."

Mira blinked and looked at the serious men and woman that were watching them so closely. "Okay. What do we do?"

Especially after Angie explained about Rollie. The poor man! To go through so much. She muttered a curse in Spanish under her breath. Poor Rollie and poor Angie. She was getting tired of the abuse her friends seemed to attract. With a sigh, she finally admitted it was, at least partly, her fault. She was one of several law enforcement people forever going to them for their help with this or that. Why? She'd done fine before she ever heard of Rollie Tyler or Angie Ramirez. So why did she find herself... using them? That was the only word that fit. She used them. Constantly, it seemed now. Every time the going got rough or the crooks got too clever, she turned to Tyler FX for help. Because it was so much easier with their help, that was why. Because they were so clever and resourceful. Because where before she was doing fine, now she was doing great. Her arrest record had climbed higher and the conviction rate was going with it. Fewer crooks got away, thanks to their assistance. She resolved to do better in the future, to not rely on her friends so much. Idly, she wondered how Tyler FX managed to get any of their work done and attract new contracts. It seemed like Rollie and Angie were always helping her, the FBI and now, it would seem, Interpol as well. A light appeared on the detector in front of her and she stiffened slightly. "He's here," she muttered softly into the almost invisible headset she wore. A soft "understood" came from Agent Garrett.

Casually, Mira stretched, then adjusted her jumpsuit, getting her pistol in hand. She kept one eye locked on the big man ponderously moving toward the door. He didn't look like Loubar. The height was right, but he weighed quite a bit more. Or at least appeared to weigh more. Working with her friends had at least opened her to wider possibilities. Where before she might have dismissed the man, now she knew about padded weight suits used to make someone appear different from reality. Hoping the detector was working properly and they weren't about to tip their hand to Loubar, Sanchez turned. The corner of her eye showed Anne Garrett discarding the mop she'd been using. "FREEZE! Police!" She announced, pointing her gun at the man.

The man stopped and blinked at her in mild surprise. "Is there a problem... officer?"

Didn't sound like Loubar either. Anne Garrett moved forward, her own gun pointing at Loubar. "Raise your hands, Loubar."

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he looked at the blonde, then slowly obeyed. "Loubar? I'm afraid you've made a mistake! My name is Johnson, Carl Johnson. I..."

"Give it up, Vic."

The soft words startled the man and he spun around to face... "What?!? RAMIREZ?!? How?!?!" Confused, he looked between the two identical women. His head kept swinging back and forth as if he was watching a tennis match. "Who? Who are you? How?!?"

Angie smiled without humor. "Surprised? Doesn't usually happen to you. Does it Vic?"

"V--V--Vic? Who?" He tried to cover his mistake, then gave up, knowing it was too late. He'd stupidly blown this disguise in his surprise. How had they known? And why were there two of Angie Ramirez?

"Poor Vic. Confused?" Angie purred as she maneuvered closer to the man.

Anne picked up the taunts. "So how does it feel to be on the receiving end for a change? Getting an idea what your victims felt like before you kill them?"

"I..." His head jerked back and forth, trying to keep an eye on the identical women. Mira was forgotten for the moment. Another mistake, as she moved rapidly forward, grabbing one of his hands. He didn't even resist as she twisted his arm behind his back, applying her cuffs, then grabbed his other one, securing the prisoner.

With wide eyes, he watched one of the blondes approach him, her eyes glared dangerously at him. "You know, Vic. You could have left Rollie alone. It wasn't his fault you messed up. It was yours. And this latest," she tsked at him mildly, "real stupid all the way around. No one would have known anything until it was too late. If ... you ... just ... left ... Rollie ... alone!" With the last word, she plunged a hypodermic into his neck, swiftly injecting the contents. With a satisfied smile, she rocked back on her heels. "I don't know what you gave him, Vic. But now..." She grinned crazily at the taller man.

"What... What have you done?" Victor Loubar asked in sudden panic. No! NO! This could not be happening to him! It couldn't! "What did you do?"

Anne Garrett ambled over to join her 'twin'. "What do you think she did, Vic?"

"I'll have to thank the good doctor for extracting that blood sample from Rollie," Angie said, conversationally to the others.

"No," he shook his head in denial. "You couldn't have. The police! They wouldn't allow this! They wouldn't!" He looked desperately at Mira Sanchez.

Mira's eyes narrowed slightly and her brow furrowed. "Allow what, Loubar?"

Victor Loubar looked wildly at the three women grinning at him and, for the first time in his life, felt his blood run cold. Somewhere in the back of his mind a quote rose to the surface. He had no idea of it's origins, but... 'The female of the species is deadlier than the male.' Should have left Tyler alone? I should have left Ramirez alone! Should have... should have... He felt his face flush. Was that the start of the fever? Why was he trembling so much? How could this happen? Why did this happen to him? Why? He moaned softly. No. "No," he moaned aloud. "NO!"

"Don't feel well, Vic?" Angie's ice cold eyes met his. "You should know exactly what's happening. After all, you know what Rollie is feeling right now."

He licked dry lips. "There... There's... There's still time to save Tyler. I-- I-- The antiserum! I--I--I'll give you the cure! But you've got to inject me first! Promise me that! I..."

"Where is it, Vic? You better start praying... if you even know how. Because if Rollie doesn't recover - fully! No one, and I mean NO ONE will be able to protect you from me, Vic."

"M--m--my cuff. The vials, they're sewn into the..." He trailed off as he watched Ramirez, one of them (The real one?), drop down and feel along the bottom of his pants. He jumped slightly as she ripped out the seam and held up two vials. He looked yearningly at his salvation.

"Take care of Vic, guys! I've got to get these to Rollie!" With that Angie tore out of the maintenance hall.

"You got him covered, Agent Garrett?" Mira asked.

"Yes," she responded with a grim smile, settling her grip on her gun more firmly. "Go! Get her to Rollie!"

"Thanks," Mira tossed over her shoulder, bolting after her friend. She holstered her gun on the run, only vaguely aware of the hive of activity that erupted behind her. Angie had to reach Rollie and she figured she was the best one to get her there.

Once they were down in the underground parking, Angie jumped from the car and pushed the elevator button. Mira swiftly parked in the nearest available space and headed over to join her friend. She got there at the same time as the elevator.

The detective fidgeted as she watched the floor numbers pass, a bit surprised by the high number her blonde friend had selected. Apparently, this Interpol operation was well funded, or perhaps, Chief MacConnell was extremely persuasive. Either way, her friends were in the lap of luxuary in this swank hotel. Luxary she knew they'd both give up to not have to deal with Loubar in this latest fiasco. She sighed and started to say something, then closed her mouth. What could she say? Words wouldn't really help, not in dealing with Victor Loubar's vicious actions. There were no words that could explain them or ease the pain they'd caused. This time was beyond the understanding of saner people. What reason did Loubar have for raping Angie? Revenge? To hurt his nemesis where it would be felt the most? Well, he'd succeeded in that, Rollie would never be able to forget what Angie had gone through - all because he'd crossed Victor Loubar one time too many. She wished she could pull the pain away from Angie, the guilt and pain from Rollie. She could only pray that her friends would survive it and be able to move beyond it. There would be changes, that was unavoidable given the circumstances, but they were strong. Hopefully, they would still be the people they were in spite of the hurt, the anger, the guilt. Of course, there might not be a problem... Because Rollie might die ... No! The doors of the elevator opened, cutting off her thoughts.

Angie nodded briefly to the pair of men in dark suits standing by the elevator bank before dashing down the hall, Mira Sanchez following close behind. She threw open the door to a room and called out. "DOCTOR!"

"Ms. Ramirez?" A beautiful redhead with streaks of gray lacing her hair stepped out of one bedroom. "Did you...?"

"Here!" Angie thrust the two precious vials into the other woman's hands. "Rollie?"

"He's worse, but he's still holding  on."

Angie darted past the doctor into the bedroom, throwing herself to her knees beside the bed. A canula now fed oxygen directly to Rollie's lungs. His face was as white as the sheets on the bed. She reached out a trembling hand to touch his. "Rollie," she whispered softly. "We caught Loubar. I brought the antiserum. You'll be okay now. You're going to be fine." She closed her eyes and prayed silently. Please God, let Rollie be okay. He's all I have. All I want. Please! He doesn't deserve this. Please let him recover.

Doctor Pulaski touched Angie's shoulder gently, then reached over and injected a hypodermic into Rollie's arm. "Now comes the hard part."

Angie looked up, questions in her eyes.

The doctor smiled tiredly. "Now, we wait."
 

"I don't know." Doctor Pulaski sighed and stepped into the living area of the suite. Mira followed. "His fever was very high. Dangerously so. We have to hope the antiserum was injected in time. The fever is still high, but it's come down a bit. Now," she shrugged eloquently, "it's up to him."

Mira nodded. "If that's the case, Rollie will make it." She put every ounce of conviction she could muster into that simple sentence.

"I hope you're right." The redhead looked around the room. "I've sent the identification numbers from those vials to the CDC. Hopefully, they'll be able to identify it."

"Hopefully," the words from Mira Sanchez were a softly whispered prayer.

Angie watched disinterestedly as they left the doorway. She focused once more on Rollie, trying to will life back into the man she loved. As time passed, her head drooped and finally she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Chief MacConnell arrived and briefed Detective Sanchez and Doctor Pulaski on Victor Loubar's arrest. He smiled wryly, "The man keeps insisting that he be given some anti-serum and see a doctor." A twinkle appeared in his eyes as he looked over at Pulaski. "I thought you might oblige him with a check up... Oh... Sometime tomorrow say." They had neglected to inform the international arms dealer and assasin for hire that he'd been injected with a harmless, straw colored saline solution. Every symptom the man was now suffering was coming straight out of his own head. The look on his face when he found out would be priceless. He'd have to make sure the news was delivered in a room with surveilance cameras. He was sure that Angie Ramirez and Rollie Tyler would appreciate it. He just hoped young Tyler would be in condition to appreciate it though. "How is Mister Tyler doing?" He asked them anxiously.

"Still asleep the last time I checked, Chief," Pulaski reported, "along with Ms. Ramirez. I don't want to disturb them if I don't have to. He fever has abated somewhat and he is doing much better though."

"Good, good," MacConnell nodded. "Well, I'll leave them in your capable hands, Pulaski, Sanchez. Keep me informed." The Interpol Agent-in-Charge left, pleased with the thought that he wouldn't lose a civilian on this one, especially one of this pair of civilians. He would have hated to report that to his superiors. And not because of the possible discipline he might face. Tyler and Ramirez were good sorts. They needed more like them in the world.

Angie Ramirez jerked awake and blinked owlishly as she looked around trying to find what had interrupted her sleep. Not seeing anything in the shadows of the room, she squeezed Rollie's hand gently and was rewarded by a return squeeze. What? The blonde looked down to see Rollie's eyes blinking. He was awake! Rollie was awake!!! She hesitated, torn between kissing Rollie and calling Doctor Pulaski in to check on him. "Rollie?" She whispered huskily.

"An--An--Angie," came the hoarse whisper from the most beautiful voice she'd ever heard, the most beautiful sound in the world.

Angie beamed at him in delight. She brushed his hair back from his face. "How do you feel, love?"

"We--weak," came the whisper, "so--re." Rollie struggled to sit up and finally made it with some help from Angie. Quite a bit of help from Angie if he was being honest with himself. He was so weak and tired. His muscles felt like water. He lay back on the pillow, panting heavily.

Angie kissed his forehead, delighted to find the fever absent. "I'll call Doctor Pulaski."

Rollie started to protest, then subsided, trying to pull together a little strength. He was so weak! What had happened? And where were they? This wasn't home and it wasn't Angie's. It also didn't look like any hospital he had ever been in. What had happened? He tried to get his recaltrant brain to function properly.

Angie appeared with a red headed woman. Doctor Pulaski? He didn't recognize her at all. He just leaned back on his pillow and allowed her to examine him. He didn't have any strength available for protest. It was taking every thing he had to not fall back to sleep. He didn't want to do that! Not yet anyway, not until he had some explanations. Despite his debilitation and exhaustion, Doctor Pulaski seemed pleased by the results of her examination. Well, that was good... He guessed that was good.

"...much better, Mister Tyler," she said.

The Australian pulled himself back from his drifting. The doctor was talking to him and he supposed he better listen. He forced his tired mind to focus and looked up at her blearily.

Doctor Pulaski graced him with a warm, gentle smile. "I know you're tired," she continued, "but that will get better. You had a very high fever and scared us quite a bit, young man. Now, your job is to concentrate on getting better. I'll have something for you to eat the next time you wake up."

Her voice faded from his consciousness as Rollie's eyes slid closed and he fell back asleep.

"Will he be all right?" Angie asked anxiously as she gathered his large hand into hers once more.

"Yes," Pulaski answered thoughtfully, "I do believe he will be. Rollie Tyler is a stubborn man. He woke up much sooner than I expected. I think he'll be just fine." She beamed at her patient and the younger woman. "He'll need quite a bit of rest, but I expect he'll make a complete recovery." Her smile turned to a grin as she was forgotten by the blonde. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll go see Chief MacConnell and arrange a nice long vacation for the two of you." She slipped out of the room and caught Mira's eye. "He's going to be fine." She reassured the detective. "I'm going to go prescribe a vacation for those two right now. Somewhere nice and quiet, where they can relax and recuperate. All things considered I think Interpol should foot the bill. Now... Where would be a good, quiet place to convalesce for Christmas?" She headed out the door, determined to arrange things now, before her patient gathered enough strength to protest. After all, it was the least they could do! The report from the CDC had shown just how nasty Victor Loubar could be. The virus Rollie had been injected with could have destroyed his life, eating up the strength of his muscles, much as polio did. It would have left him crippled and dependent on machines for the rest of his life, however long that would have been. That would have been so heart-breakingly wrong. Instead, thanks to Angie Ramirez's determination and Rollie Tyler's own strength, they were fortunate enough to have a happy ending. As if life came with endings. Oh no, life was a continuing story, the characters just changed as it went through the chapters and she wanted this young couple to have a most excellant Holiday after the horror of the last few days of their lifes.