"Hello," he answered flatly.

"Ed," said a quiet, easily recognized voice. "It's Mariana."

"Mariana," sighed Ed, as butterflies danced in his stomach suddenly. Trying to hide his reaction he joked, "Should I just chuck my alarm clock? I hardly seem to need it of late."

"What?" Mariana's voice seemed a bit puzzled. "Ed, are you awake? I need to speak with you"

"Ah, never mind. What's wrong?" said Ed hastily. Pushing himself upright to a sitting position, he made himself comfortable against the bed frame.

"Can you meet me as soon as possible? It's Mark. Could you..."

"I'm on my way," Ed broke in.

"No, wait! It's a new location from before. Wait outside in fifteen minutes, and one of us will bring you here. Look for a blond woman wearing a blue sweater. She'll ask if you make house calls. Understand?" Her voice seemed troubled.

"Got it."

"Oh and Ed? Be careful."

Ed heard the dial tone and looked at the receiver in disbelief. 'When am I not?' he thought. Chuckling slightly, he quickly jumped out of bed and dressed warmly.

Mariana closed the door behind her, as she and Ed moved to another room. The curtains were faded gold brocade and changed the growing sunlight into a sickly yellow. Mark lay in the next room, sleeping fitfully. The wound had finally begun to heal, but Ed worried there could still be complications. Two male Dominants, both with impassive faces, stood watch over him as Mariana led Ed into the adjoining room to talk privately. Ed couldn't shake the sense that everyone seemed on pins and needles, waiting for something. He, for one, was grateful to escape the tension filled air.

Mariana took a seat in a large chair facing the window, and wrapped her arms around her small frame. Ed couldn't help notice how striking she looked, with her mysterious gray eyes looking up at him expectantly. He pulled a chair to face her.

"I know it's none of my business, but something must be up. Everyone inside," Ed said while gesturing his chin towards the other room, "seems a bit more intense than usual."

With a half-smile, Mariana explained. "They are concerned, not just about Mark though. It would seem that we've reached an impasse for the moment. Deciding what to do, now that the comet has come, now that you and others know about my species and our…how should I say…'agenda'?"

"That might be an apt term for domination of the human world and its resources," Ed quipped dryly.

Mariana's laughter was unexpected. It echoed softly in the air around them. "I guess I understated that a bit. But seriously, where do we go from here, for those of us who wish coexistence? It's hard to know who to trust."

"Trust who?" asked Ed, slightly uneasy. "Dominant or Human?"

"Both," sighed Mariana. "I'm afraid things aren't always as clear-cut as we try to make them. There are those who might still be persuaded to join our cause." Grinning wryly, she amended her last statement. "At least among my species, there are. Finding them, convincing them, without tipping our hand to Lewis or the others will be tricky. Not to mention dangerous."

Ed leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "What made you decide?"

Mariana swept her black hair from her face with a graceful turn of her hand. The freckles on her nose, along with her unique coloring, and her full red lips made her seem quite exotic to Ed. She certainly had a sense of mystery about her that seemed to pull Ed inward, every time they met.

"I told you I had been released from my programming. But it was more than that. As I came to know Mark, and the others, I saw that though my species is the stronger, we have one trait that could prove disastrous."

"And what would that be?" questioned Ed, intrigued with this line of thought.

"Our innate aggressiveness," answered Mariana, leaning forward with hands clasped in front, to emphasize her point. "It serves us well as a means to dominate your species, but some of us question where that would leave us. Unchecked aggression might lead to recklessness. And if humans are no longer a threat, would we turn on ourselves?"

A shadow of regret crossed her face, and then was quickly gone. Ed wasn't quite sure if he'd seen it. She took a deep breath and continued "But more importantly, many of us believe that the destruction of humans is unnecessary, and at best, wasteful."

"Wasteful? In killing us?" His tone was more skeptical than he meant it to be, but Mariana seemed not to notice.

"Yes," she confirmed. Leaning back and clasping her arms around her body again, she expanded, "And this war, covert or open, could be a costly drain on our numbers as well." Mariana shifted in her chair, and looked steadily at Ed. "Perhaps some of us value humans and their traits. Your courage, your compassion, your passion."

Ed colored a little under Mariana's magnetic gaze. He felt drawn to her and at the same time very exposed and vulnerable. He dropped his head a moment, and when he looked at Mariana again, he could tell she was amused by her composed smile.

Mariana gracefully stood and walked to where he sat. He couldn't help but lean back into the chair, wary of her. But as she placed her hands on each side of his face, her small fingers slightly caressed him, and he felt a familiar heat course through him. He stood and towered over her. Gazing into her eyes, he kissed her gently. He realized distantly, her lips were warm. He felt he should go, but as his mouth met hers again, he began to surrender to it, knowing he was falling into something way over his head. Conflicting emotions rippled through him as the heat of their embrace surged through his veins.

And suddenly Mariana broke away. She looked impassively at him for a moment, and then a wisp of a smile tugged at her mouth. Baffled, by her actions and his own, he looked steadily at the floor.

"It’s okay, Ed" she softly spoke. And before he could think of what to say, she silently moved to the door and quickly left.

Ray nodded to a nearby guard, as he followed the corridor to Walter's office. On his door, at eye level was a neon skull, and crossbones that shone a ghastly green under the fluorescent lighting. Chuckling, he rapped twice on the door before entering.

Walter looked up from his desk that seemed to be overflowing with paperwork and files, a unusual disarray for someone who took pride in being neat.

"I see you've been decorating your office," Ray said as she settled in the chair in front of the desk. He smiled inwardly at Walter's momentary grimace of irritation.

"It would seem my staff have a somewhat infantile sense of humor," Walter replied as he busied himself with stacking papers.

"Oh come on, Walter!" chided Ray. "Don't tell me you see any harm in a little Halloween fun. This is a laboratory, after all."

"As long as no one expects me to give out candy," Walter countered. "So, have you uncovered any information that might lead us to Ms. Luthor?" Walter asked with expectation as he laced his fingers together, placing them on the desk in front of him.

"The facility at Twin Peaks has been abandoned and totally destroyed. Those in the nearby parks mentioned an explosion that rocked tents and campers for at least a five mile radius."

"And Dr. Santiago?" Walter asked irritated with Alexandra's easy escape. "Has he been forthcoming with any more details that we might use?"

"Only that Jon Mitchell remained behind to keep tabs on her and her work," Ray replied, somewhat uneasy. "That bothers me. I don't know whether to trust him as a reliable source or not. Though according to Dr. Santiago, he did help considerably in the rescue of Tom. That is something we should consider."

Mulling over all the information, Walter muttered, "She's gone underground, licking her wounds no doubt." His voice reeked with disdain. "But, until we find her, she has the potential to undermine every move we make, especially if we're to establish any relationship with the coexistence faction among the Dominants."

"I realize that," Ray said, tired and irritable. But the woman has obviously cultivated sources outside any agency we have. It may take time."

"Yes, unless we can find a way to force her to surface and to show herself." Walter rubbed absently at his temple.

Ray rose out of his chair. "That may be easier said than done. But I'll see what I can do." Turning by the door, he asked, "By the way, how's Tom?"

Walter grimaced and said, "He's making a recovery, of sorts."

"That hardly sounds optimistic, Walter," Ray chided.

"He's withstood torture that would've shattered any man," Walter said bitterly. "And we're still feeling our way around Homo dominant physiology and psychology. But if resilience is what's needed most, then Tom will find his way. By the way, he's staying with Sloan now. She's the only one who seems to be able to reach him, for now."

Ray sighed heavily as he moved to leave. "Well, at least there's that," he agreed. "Oh and Walter?" he called, as he reached into his pocket and brought out a Tootsie pop.

"Yes?"

The late afternoon sun filtered into the bedroom where Tom lay sleeping. He twitched and moaned softly as the throes of REM sleep claimed him. Sloan hated seeing him like this. For comfort, she brought a cup of tea to her chair at the foot of the bed, where she had kept her vigil many times since they returned to her apartment. Sloan sometimes slept in the large chair or in the bed, depending on Tom's uneasiness. Smiling slightly, she now understood Tom's feelings about the chair. Her back hurt from sleeping in it too often.

Since they had come back to the apartment Tom cringed from too much closeness. Whenever Sloan touched him, he would move away. If she caught him unaware, he would cringe back from her and then return to his stoic non-responsive face. Sloan despaired she would ever get him back.

Returning to the matter at hand, Sloan balanced a printout on her lap, staring at the numbers, knowing that she'll get little work done again today. She found herself so torn. Everyday, she biked to the lab, only to return a few hours later. Even when Ed volunteered to stay, it was all she could do to leave Tom's side. Realization slowly came to her. Tom wasn't the only one who had been a captive for the past three months.

Sloan glanced at Tom's face, troubled even in sleep. It was the only emotion she saw on his face lately. When he was awake, a mask of neutrality replaced it; one so impassive there seemed to be no way to know what he was thinking or feeling.

As the teakettle's shrill whistle pulled her from her reverie, Sloan jumped up to silence it before it woke Tom. In the kitchen, she'd been indulging in hobbies long forgotten since grad school. Cooking spicy Italian foods, experimenting with different recipes had become her favorite. Oddly enough, it had been the one activity that Tom had taken any sort of interest in. Mostly he sat, implacable, like granite, and stared into space.

At first, she had talked to him constantly, using every tone she could think of, beseeching him to respond. Even curiosity and playfulness failed. He seemed so remote. She felt like a stranger had replaced him with some automaton. She tried to remind herself that his ordeal had been a hellish experience and that it would take some time. But some part of her sensed him slowly slipping away and that terrified her.

"Your tea's ready, Sloan," Tom said as he silently walked into the kitchen.

Startled, she almost dropped her cup. She looked at him and smiled, noticing the ever-present shadows beneath his eyes. "How about I make you a cup, hmm?" Sloan asked, hopefully. "I even have the honey that you like."

Tom nodded absently, as he sat down on the couch. His 'distance' was beginning to scare her. As she poured the tea, she resolved to try and make him open up to her. "Here we are." Sloan said, forcing a brightness she didn't feel into her voice.

She set both cups and saucers onto the coffee table and shifted her gaze towards Tom as he reached for his cup. His hand twitched incessantly as he tried to bring it to his lips and take a sip. He quickly returned the cup to the saucer. The china clinked even more as his hand shook uncontrollably. Quickly, he set the cup and saucer on the table and sat back holding his hands together tightly. Pain flashed across Tom's face for a second as he tried to regain control of his body, then the mask settled over it once again.

"Tom?" Sloan whispered, worry inflecting her voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes!" cut Tom bluntly. "I'm fine."

"Tom," she quietly admonished and took a calming breath. She was tired of his short, curt responses. "Tell me, what is it? I know you're feeling a bit strange, but if we talk about it, it'll be better for you. We can work this out."

"I don't know what you mean," he lied.

"Oh Tom! Yes you do!" Sloan countered emphatically. "You can't sleep without nightmares. You seem so shaky. And you hardly say twenty words in an entire day." Sloan moved in front of him, grasped his hands, and noticed he cringed from her touch. "Please talk to me," she asked desperately. "You know you can say anything. I'll understand."

"Tom? Tom! What is it? Are you all right?" Sloan's voice was full of panic as she watched Tom's eyes turn cold.

Tom snapped from his reverie, and roughly pulled his hands from her grasp. He stood and retreated to a chair across the room, far away from Sloan and her intruding emotions.

"Everything is fine, Sloan," whispered Tom.

"But, Tom?"

"I'm fine!" he said as he felt the heat within him, and heard it in his voice. Forcing a calm demeanor, he replied once more, "I'm fine. I think maybe I'll read some of the material that Ed brought."

Retreating into the bedroom, he shut her out again.

Mark lay still, trying to concentrate. The fever had left him and he was becoming more aware of his surroundings. The previous weeks were fragmented…filled with voices and images that wove in on one another. Mark was uncertain of how much time had passed, for every time he tried to order his thoughts, he was hit with a wave of urgency…pulling on him to act.

He was aware of others, one at his bedside, and several more in an adjoining room. He carefully raised himself to a sitting position on the side of the bed, and silently flexed each muscle, listening to the even breathing of Mariana by his side.

With a lightning move, he struck, rendering her unconscious. He grabbed her to prevent her from slumping out of the chair. Then, as he stood, his knees felt as if they were made of water. He was weaker than he thought. No matter. There was so little time. He scanned his surroundings, carefully masking his presence.

Mark reached for the clothes that lay neatly folded atop a nearby dresser, and dressed quickly. Then suddenly, he froze at the sound of a siren wailing in the distance. He slowed his breathing and listened, but he couldn't detect any movement next door. As the sound faded in the distance, he continued dressing, scanning the room for things he would need.

Mark made sure that the pants, shirt, and jacket were all of a neutral color. Instinctively he checked his jacket for the sewn in packet containing a key and two thousand dollars in various currencies. He pocketed the syringe and a vial of antibiotic from the bedside table.

As he sat to put on his shoes, a wave of dizziness overcame him. He swallowed hard, and forced himself to continue getting ready. After a few deep breaths, he stood and surveyed the room one last time. He must get moving. There was a little less than an hour before sunrise. For the first time in a long while, he was ravenously hungry. He pushed the need aside, determined to get as far as possible from his companions. Once he put enough distance between him and the faction, he could see to his body's needs.

He glanced down at Mariana's still form in the chair one last time. He couldn't risk sharing, even with her, his intentions. But he hoped that when the time came, she'd know they had been necessary.

Walking soundlessly on balanced, flat feet, he made his way to the door and carefully unlatched it. He opened the door slowly, and then slipped into the predawn parking lot. He carefully closed the door behind him. Without looking back, he purposefully strode towards the rear of the building, and escaped into the trees.

A loud knock drew Ed's attention away from the daily crossword puzzle and a bowl of Captain Crunch he'd been crouched over at his dining room table. Going to the door, he vowed that if it were one more salesman, he'd turn them over to Alexandra Luthor, and claim they were dominants.

Checking the security camera, he saw Mariana, impatiently peering up at the camera, absently rubbing her neck, grimacing slightly with pain. After punching in the code, he quickly opened the door and moved aside as she walked in without speaking.

"Good morning," greeted Ed cheerfully. But the scowl she returned alarmed him somewhat. "I think... Hey! What's wrong?"

"Ed," said Mariana as she entered and paced the apartment, not giving her friend a chance to react. "Mark's disappeared. He simply got up, knocked me out, got dressed, and left before any of us were aware he was even conscious. I can't find him anywhere!"

Ed heard the anguish in her voice, so unlike anything he'd ever heard her say. He was taken aback for a moment. Reaching out, he stopped her pacing, and led her to the couch to sit down.

"Whoa," Ed said, a bit startled. "Start from the beginning. He just got up on his own accord and left. Do you know why?"

"I've no idea," she said, as Ed turned her neck and examined the bruised skin. "I keep going over the last things we discussed. I told him about the raid, our rescuing Tom, the condition he was in, the catatonia and our efforts to help him recover. I was briefing Mark on everything that had taken place in his absence. He didn't seem to latch on to any one thing more than another. He seemed pre-occupied and I don't think he had heard one third of our conversation." Biting her lip in frustration, she blurted, "I just can't help thinking that the fever returned and in this state, he left without knowing what he was doing."

Ed sat back in shock. "Has the fever returned lately?" Not waiting for an answer, he glanced down, concentrating on his line of thought. "I was sure the infection was under control. What could've happened?"

Mariana lifted his head to meet his eyes. "I thought it was as well. I just don't understand why he'd leave so abruptly. Especially without saying anything to any of us."

"So what's the last thing you remember the two of you discussing? Or anyone discussing, for that matter. Did anyone have a conversation with him afterwards?"

"We spoke just before I fell asleep. It was my turn to watch him."

The guilt that tinged her voice made him want to comfort her, but he knew this was not the time. She would only rebuff him. "So what did you talk about?"

Mariana was silent so long that he didn't think she'd answer him. But when she did, surprisingly her voice was raw with emotion. She looked at him squarely, though her eyes didn't quite reach his own. "I was telling him about Tom's rescue. He didn't say much until I mentioned that one of Lewis' team was someone…" Swallowing the lump in her throat, she continued, "…was someone I once knew."

"Someone you knew," urged Ed slowly. "Like from the motel? The meeting in the desert?"

"No, someone from before. A friend I knew before I joined those in favor of coexistence."

"Who is he?" For some uncomfortable reason, Ed felt a flair of jealousy.

Mariana squirmed on the couch, for some reason she found herself unwilling to reveal this person to Ed. Reluctantly, she explained, "He was a lover. We had been…oh it doesn't matter. We hadn't seen one another for such a long time before that night. I didn't think Mark would even know who he was."

Ed fought his jealousy. "Let's say maybe he did. Can you think of why he might decide to then leave after hearing about this man…what's his name?"

"Nicholas." Mariana barely breathed the name. "Look, it was so long ago compared to all that's happening at this moment, I didn't think it meant anything. Now I'm not so sure."

"Okay, okay," Ed soothed. "Where might he have gone? Did he take anything?"

"Yes, he took supplies, clothing and oh yes, the antibiotic that you left for him."

"Well," Ed said slowly. "That would indicate he's at least thinking rationally. Are you sure he didn't just go and take care of something he didn't want the others involved in?

"I suppose he could have," she agreed. "I just have this unsettling sense that something is happening that could bring him into danger."

Ed moved closer and embraced her. He was half surprised she didn't fight it. Casual contact was one thing. Contact for comfort? That was something else. "I know that you're worried, Mariana, but there seems little we can do. We have to wait until he calls you. Okay?"

"You're right. I just wanted…I just wanted to talk with a friend."

Smiling at that description, he said, "Well, you have one here. And he'll throw in breakfast to boot. Interested?"

Pulling away slightly, she smirked and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You don't have some of that excessively sweet brand of cereal you gave me the other day, would you?"

"Coming right up." The look of relief on Mariana's face made him forget all about this Nicholas. Well, almost.