Michael Sanchez watched as Detective Mira Sanchez came out of her apartment. The hard line to her face told him she was preoccupied with work on her mind as she opened her car door and slammed it shut. She was already on the phone in her car as she pulled out, screeching tires and accelerated down the street. Almost four months ago, he had left New York from Pollepel Island, holding in his hands his salvation, or so he thought. With the hard facts in his hands and a new identity, he would be able to extinguish the splinter faction that had trapped him into a life of indentured espionage and murder. The fact that the same faction had managed to capture Rollie Tyler and hold him as bait, had been extremely hard to ignore, but he had to do just that in order to deliver the files into the hands that would start the domino effect.

 

Having identified the deepthroat contact of the CIA before he had left Costa Rica, his strategy had always been to protect himself and then destroy the ones that had made his life a living hell. Holding Mira's life over his head at all times had been a persuasive tool in motivating his actions. His own debriefing had left permanent scars on his psyche that not even he, was willing to probe. The files of personnel that had been with the OSS and processed into the CIA in 1947 contained one key man whose identity had always remained obscure to Michael and in processing a splinter faction, kept valuable information free from the restructured CIA in that year. This man had led a double agenda for over 50 years and would have been in his nineties now. To Michael, this was unfathomable. There were controllers now that had taken over the day to day operations from this man, but the man was still a viable entity in the scheme of things.

 

Once Michael had the files, reviewed them himself, and contacted the deepthroat, he was assured that the faction would be liquidated and Rollie Tyler set free. As of yet, after turning over the files over three months ago, that had not happened. He considered his contact part of the faction's double agents now and the ruse had sent him into a deep cover. His identity was changed and his physical features were once again altered to throw off any trackers.

 

Michael Sanchez, alias John Balsario, stood out from behind the parked car he had hidden behind while viewing his ex-wife. He momentarily caught a glimpse of his face in the window of the car in the early morning sun as it reflected against the glass and he frowned. The long drooping moustache was his as was the color of his eyes but the Roman nose and hollowed cheeks made him look gaunt. His eyebrows had been widened and the wrinkles around his eyes permanent. He ran his hand through the short cropped hair and sighed. He looked like a prisoner of war and he felt like one too. He wanted to talk to Mira, explain it all to her now. But he was still afraid, they would be watching.

 

Instead, after seeing her for those brief, few seconds, he turned around and headed for Brewery Lane. He wanted to see how Angela was faring. Driving an old panel truck, he parked around the end of the alley from the lane. Spying was like a second nature to him and he easily found the abandoned warehouse across the street of use to him. From his perched second floor window, his binoculars used initially, he found what he was looking for as Angela Tyler made her way outside the loft's door, stretching slightly, pushing herself against the brick wall. Her pregnancy was advanced, he could see that, but that didn't seem to deter her from walking and getting exercise. She started on a brisk pace down the lane, passing his truck as he turned around in the building and started to take inventory of his new surroundings and living quarters.

 

Angie was feeling well. She walked over 2 miles before returning in a circle around the Brewery and heading back inside. Her cheeks were red and glowing as she fanned herself, sitting down on the couch and taking a drink of spring water. Next week, she would be starting her Lamaze class with Francis as her coach. With Mira not coming around as much, Angie had been approached by Francis as support with Sarah's blessing. Angie, at first, had politely refused but after a few more offers and insistence, she took him on. Angie missed Mira's friendship but knew that Mira considered herself to blame for what had happened to Rollie. Even though Angie had repeatedly tried to get Mira to see it wasn't her fault, Mira had backed away.

 

She had still not told Lucinda about Rollie being kidnapped. She wrote her about the progress of pregnancy but no other real details. Lucinda had just finished another movie now with glowing reviews and her life had really taken off so it was just as well, Angie told herself.

 

Mangela called at infrequent intervals and shared his thoughts. He too, felt Rollie was faint and distant. But he told Angie that he was still there, his song-line needed her connection as well. Try as she may, Angie could not find this song-line that both Rollie and Mangela spoke of so much. She only knew in her heart and mind, that Rollie was still alive, but that was it. Sometimes, she would look at a picture, watch a video of Rollie working or joking, and smile but it would always lead to an anxious feeling that she would forget what he looked like once the tape had been turned off. Her panic sometimes left her sleepless.

 

Her obstetrician worried about her. Her feet were still swelling and her blood pressure was rising. She had told Angie that if it continued and if she started to spill protein in her urine and blood stream, that she would put her on bed rest, completely. Angie scoffed and ignored her only to cry once she left the office. When the doctor had asked her if she wanted to know the sex of her baby, she had told her no.

 

Tony Alverez was doing more and more for her. On the set of 'Warp', she had won over the director and production with a solid performance. She was heading for the wrap party in just a few hours, as she pushed her head back against the back of the couch and rested.

 

"Angie"…

 

She smiled for Rollie always looked the same in her dreams. He came toward her and held her. She kissed him as he caressed her and covered her face with his kisses, comforting her. He would touch her abdomen, the baby reacting strongly to its father. At times, she dreamed of them making love, the sheer pleasure of feeling him, touching him and beyond- his face to hers, his eyes meeting her eyes. She knew that if she looked long enough, she could see the reflection of her soul and his, and they were one and the same.

 

"Rollie?"

 

"I can't see you anymore…"

 

Angie jumped, waking up, startled. Her heart was pounding and she had an incredible headache. She tried to get up and move but found her hands twitching, uncontrollably.

 

"Oh God," she moaned, trying to reach the phone. She called out to Bluey for speaker phone but she couldn't make out the words.

 

Strong arms picked her up from the couch. Through her blurred vision, she could see a man holding her, a moustache, an unfamiliar face but the voice, she knew the voice as she shook her head and tried to protest.

 

Angie woke in the hospital. She looked up, seeing she had an IV and her vision had cleared. Looking up, she read the medication sticker that had been placed on the bag of lactated ringers solution that was hanging above her. She shut her eyes, recognizing the name. Dr. Shelton had told her that this might happen and it looked like it had. Magnesium Sulfate was running into her veins. She looked over at the monitor and could see that her blood pressure was high. From the corner of the room, she saw Francis. He was working on something, writing determinedly.

 

"Francis…"

 

"Hey! Boy, you gave us a scare! If it hadn't of been for that workman who found you, jeez!" he replied, shaking his head as he stood up, putting his hands in his pocket and walked over to her, patting her arm.

 

"What workman?"

 

"Some guy…he said that he had a work order to fix the plumbing in your bathroom and that he was let in by a little robot dog. He said, he found you having a convulsion on the sofa. He brought you to the hospital!"

 

"Man? With a moustache?" Angie was dizzily trying to remember a vague face.

 

"Yep, saved your life and the baby's…" Francis replied, smiling.

 

Angie suddenly gripped her abdomen, the baby shifted position, both feet pushing against her bladder and causing her to muffle a groan.

 

"Sorry Francis, I gotta use the bathroom!" She said, trying to sit up.

 

"Yeah, well, you don't have to go anywhere, Angie. They got that tube thing in you. You've been going the entire time, I've been here," he said, laughing.

 

"Oh," she said, but she wasn't embarrassed, just tired, "Oh Francis, what am I going to do?"

 

Francis looked at Angie, her face crumbling as the tears ran sideways across her cheeks down to her pillow.

 

"Hey," he said, softly and came over and bent down, trying to hug her as she gripped him around the shoulders, holding on to him for dear life.

 

"What am I going to do without him?"

 

"He's coming back, Angie!" Francis replied, his face in her hair as he tried to soothe her.

 

"I can't even feel him anymore, Francis!" she cried, as a nurse came into the room, having seen the remote monitor alarm from the desk.

 

"Okay, you sir, you need to wait in the hallway. I need to have Ms. Tyler relax."

 

Francis released Angie and smiled as he backed out of the room. In the hall, waiting was Mira. She sat in a chair by the door, biting her lip. Francis put his hand on her shoulder, seeing that she too, had been crying.

 

"Hey, now don't you start," Mira told him, drying her eyes as she looked up at his red-rimmed eyes.

 

"I want to just march down to Langley and give them all a piece of me!" Francis told her, leaning against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.

 

"Yeah, well- just let me get a hand on that bastard. What I wouldn't give to get him in my sights!" she replied, thinking of Michael.

 

"You don't have to look too far…" said the voice of a man that stood in front of them suddenly.

 

Rollie had been moved to a larger room. At times, he felt like other people were there in the room with him. He welcomed the cot when he was in that room. He could sleep for a change and bathe and get food. No one in the room talked, occasionally he could hear someone crying or moaning. Once he felt a hand touch his shoulder but quickly, the voice of one of the debriefers called out and that feel of human contact was gone, almost forgotten.

 

He couldn't see Angie's face anymore in his mind's eye. The dreaming did not come at all. When he tried to think about her, he saw nothing but the brilliant white light. He hadn't cried the entire time of his captivity. How long had he been here? Was it days, months, or years. His body ached. How old was he now?

 

He gripped the edge of his cot, space, and time gone. He lived but why? They had long ago stopped asking him questions. He had long ago stopped saying anything to them. A sudden sound, a 'plop' like a huge drop of water resounded in his mind then. Each plop sound exploded in his head as he started to grow uncomfortable. The heart beating that he heard was not his own, but in a syncopated beat with his.

 

…"the heart is the soul, the soul is the heart…"

 

The baby, his baby- is what he heard! He felt the baby's heart, the warmth of the beating and in his mind, saw drops of water, cascading into a tunnel, coursing through and through until dumping into a chasm of fluid that soothed the baby's heart, the beat slowing and matching his own heart rate now. What made him sit bolt right up on the cot was the splash of color that poured into his mind. Not one, but two orbs of crystal blue were facing his own, unseeing eyes. Angie's eyes were there, looking at him, through him, into him and suddenly he heard the song-line and the dreaming began- strong and forceful within him.