“Talk to me.” Emily Quartermaine whispered to the man who had viciously attacked her less than 12 hours earlier, the man responsible for the pounding in her head and the nausea in her stomach.

The man who would most likely kill her before this night was over.

Jagger Cates frowned at the young women, clearly disliking the paleness of her skin. He hadn’t meant to hit her that hard.

Who was he kidding? He hadn’t even stopped to think about how hard he was hitting her.

Jagger Cates had worked for the Consortium for the last five years. He had stopped counting the number of men, women, and sometimes children who had died because of his actions. In all of those five years he had cut himself off from normal feelings like guilt or remorse.

So why was the sight of those brown eyes dulled by pain making him feel both?

He shrugged. “What do you want to talk about?”

Emily closed her eyes, trying to shut off the cheap light in the motel room that seemed to add to the pain. “Anything? Nothing? Something?” She tried not to sound too weak willed or desperate. “Tell me which Pokemon is your favorite or why you think Angel should have dumped Buffy for Willow years ago or why Dawson has a creek named after him...” Emily blinked as she bravely opened her eyes again. “Forget it. I must be the only murder victim in history who’s ever sat and discussed pop culture with her killer.”

Jagger tensed as he approached the bed with a cool towel that he had just immersed in water. He gently laid it on the bruise on the side of her face. He examined the dark and ugly bruise. Was it his imagination or just wishful thinking that the swelling had gone down? “You should just rest.”

“Something tells me that in a few hours I’ll be resting for eternity. I wonder what my tombstone will say? Beloved daughter. Disliked granddaughter. Terrible sister. Pathetic ex-girlfriend...”

“How about annoying brat?” Jagger growled. “I told you that we are not going to kill you. All we want is your brother’s cooperation.”

“You’ll understand if you and I don’t exactly have a trust relationship built up, won’t you? Considering you’ve already tried to kill me once today.”

“I did not try to kill you.....yet. Keep it up and I’ll be able to claim justifiable homicide.” Jagger muttered going back to his post on the very uncomfortable chair. “You feel like talking so much why don’t you tell me something about you.”

“Why? I thought you belonged to this all seeing and all knowing group...”

“Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“No wait...” Emily’s voice wavered. The pain was getting better by degrees but it was still really bad. Listening to the sound of her voice or even Jagger’s had given her something outside the pain to focus on. “What do you want to know?”

Jagger eyed the innocent looking nineteen year old. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

A bitter look crossed Emily’s face. “That’s easy. I killed my grandmother.”

“You what?” Jagger looked up startled.

“Not the way you think. I didn’t pull the trigger or poison her or anything like that, but I killed her just as surely as if I did.” A tear slipped from her eye and he had the certain feeling that it wasn’t related to the pain in her head. And the other certain feeling that he didn’t like seeing her suffer.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.....”

“It’s okay. My therapist says its healthy to discuss these things. Of course my therapist was arrested for stalking someone and was once a suspected serial killer so I always take his advice with a ton of salt.” Emily paused. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“You really don’t...”

“No. It’s okay. I ramble when I’m nervous. I guess its kind of good that I talk about this. They say confession is good for the soul and this way when you kill me I’ll have already confessed my sins. Some of them at least.”

“I’m not going to kill you...”

Jagger began but Emily didn’t notice. “It started when I was 16. I was young and stupid.” Jagger bit back his response but Emily still opened an eye and managed to glare at him. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. Like I said I was young and stupid. I had lost my best friend six months earlier in this fire. I missed him so much. Sometimes I would just cry myself to sleep you know, hoping that if I prayed hard enough I’d at least dream about him. There were four of us you know, the four musketeers. Lucky he was my friend who died. Nikolas his brother. Liz who was Lucky’s girlfriend. And me.”

“At least you had each other .”

“You would have thought so, huh? But no dice. Nikolas and Liz spent all their time comforting each other. I kind of had to find my way on my own.” The pain of their desertion is laced in her voice and he finds himself suddenly tensing. “That was when I met Juan. He was the first person in my whole life who ever put me first. I wasn’t an afterthought with him. I would have believed myself in love with him for that alone. He even left his home and his family for me, so he could be with me.”

“You loved him?”

“I told you I was young and stupid. I thought I did. So when my parents came down heavy, I was more than ready to play Juliet to his Romeo. A few months after we started seeing each other, we decided to run away. I had some money and he had some and neither of us had a clue of what it would really be like, although we had both run away before. We ended up living together in this one room studio something or the other in the apartment building from hell. It was cold and dirty and ugly. Somehow it wasn’t the romantic setting that I had dreamed about. And in that light Juan wasn’t the Romeo I thought he was either. But I was too stubborn to admit my mistake and call home. So I stayed. Eight weeks. We were in New York eight weeks before Jason’s men found us and dragged me home. I put up this pretense of being angry but secretly I was relieved that my big brother had once again come to my rescue.”

“I don’t see....”

“I thought living in New York with Juan had become a nightmare. The real nightmare was waiting for me in the mansion when I got home. My grandfather had aged decades worrying over me. My parents had separated and my father was dangerously close to popping pills again. AJ and Jason blamed each other for my disappearance and were fighting each other more viciously than ever. And my grandmother...” Her voice choked.

“Your grandmother?”

“Did you ever meet her?” For a moment Emily’s eyes glowed. “Lila Quartermaine was the best person I have ever known. She was kind and good and loving and she always, always understood me. And forgave me. And never stopped loving me.” A pause. “When I disappeared, they tell me at first grandmother was sure that I would be in touch or that I would come home. When week after week passed by and there was no word.....they said it was a heart attack. They said it would have happened sooner or later. But I know better. My grandmother died while I was playing house with Juan in New York. She died because I was too stupid and too scared and too selfish to even pick up the phone and tell her I was alright. I killed her.”

Jagger sat in stunned silence as Emily finished her story. Damn the girl had a guilt complex that outdid his own. His mind searched for something to say, some way to alleviate her pain. He could think of nothing that didn’t sound patronizing or condescending so he remained silent, letting the silence stretch out between them.

After a few minutes of total silence he looked over and realized that she had fallen asleep. He checked his watch. He thought her head injury was getting better but he better not let her sleep for that long just to be safe.

He stopped. When had he started to worry about being safe? When had he decided to play nursemaid to someone a part of him still wanted to kill. Emily Quartermaine was a complication to their mission that they didn’t need.

And he had a sinking feeling she was also going to prove to be a complication in his life.

He picked up a gun that was lying on the table. One shot and the complication was removed. Sarah would have his hide, but eventually she would understand. She was a good soldier and she knew the rules of the game they played.

So why wasn’t he doing what his five years with the Consortium demanded? Kill Emily Quartermaine and eliminate a loose end.

He swore softly. He had no clue what was going on in his head.

All he knew was that he wasn’t going to be responsible for hurting the young woman lying motionless on the bed, anymore than he already had.

He sat the gun down and silently cursed the day he had first heard the name Kosokov. The day he had first met Sarah Webber.
Spring 1998

Dressed in black fatigues and holding an automatic rifle, Jagger Cates watched from the woods as the camp began to show signs of waking. It had taken them longer than they had imagined to find the camp, their orders had been to go in under the cover of darkness.

He looked around at the ten or so men with him and the hundred or so guarding the camp. Even odds in his opinion.

His second-in-command moved forward handing Jagger a pair of binoculars. “ It looks like the rumors of the military government having a prison camp were right. God I’ve seen more humane conditions at the local dog pound.” Paul asked sticking a piece of chewing gum in his mouth. “What’s the next move boss?”

Jagger used the binoculars to survey the scene. Dog pound was a fairly good description. He stopped counting the number of Geneva convention violations he saw. Wired pens holding the females were closest to the army’s barracks. He didn’t need to guess why. Further towards the edge of the camp there were holding pens for the men and children. Looking through the men’s pen he could only see the elderly or the infirm. It made sense, most of the men capable of fighting were forced to do so. Their lives or the lives of their families being the bargaining chip held over their head.

Jagger gagged when he saw the pile of dead bodies off to the side.

“That’s not a prison camp, it’s a death camp. ” Jagger whispered as most of his men nodded. “Do we have medical waiting? Those people need help?”

“We have an evac plane waiting for the most seriously injured. The rest will have to find their own way.”

“How?” Jagger asked knowing there was no answer. Most of the countryside had been destroyed in this damned bloody civil war. Most of the farmland had burned under the military’s scorched earth policy.

“They’ll make it. The people in this region have a track record of enduring the unendurable.” Paul said softly.

“They shouldn’t have to.”

“Isn’t that why we are here?” Paul asked. “So the question is do we wait for night fall or do we go in now?”

Jagger looked around him. “We go in now.”

“I was hoping you would say that.”

“Just one thing. The guy in charge of this hellhole. What’s his name?”

“Kosokov. He’s one of their rising leaders. According to all reports the man is evil incarnate. I guess judging by this the reports are accurate.”

“Kosokov.” Jagger tasted the words in his mouth. “He’s mine.”

Paul nodded as he gave the command to move out.

Ten minutes later the sound of gunfire had died down. Jagger took a quick stock of his own men. All accounted for. He didn’t even bother noticing the vast numbers of dead and dying soldiers on the ground. His job was never about counting bodies.

“Any sign of Kosokov?” He yelled.

“Bloody bastard took off running when the fighting broke out.”

“Damn.” Jagger shook his head. He’d get Kosokov one day he promised himself. “Call in a medical sweep team.” He looked around at the women in the pen in front of them. Most of them were starving, dirty, and wearing nothing more than rags. “Damn again. Okay. I want a few of you to go raid their mess hall for anything and all things edible. We’re feeding these people and we’re feeding them now. You two go check the barracks. If there’s clothing or boots or socks or anything in there that these people can use find it. Paul and I are going to check Kosokov’s private tent to see what else we can find out about our little monster.”

“What do you want us to do about their injured?”

“The usual. Kill them.” With that pronouncement, Jagger and Paul walked to Kosokov’s tent. And stopped and stared in shock at what they saw there.

“Bloody hell,” Paul whispered even as Jagger silently agreed.

Tied to the corners of the bed naked was a girl. Eighteen maybe. Her hair was dirty and mattered but nonetheless blonde. Her eyes were huge with shock and pain. There were bruises and cuts and what Jagger even thought were whipmarks all over her body. The girl had been raped. Multiple times. Probably by more than one man.

It wasn’t the worse thing he had ever seen. But it strengthened his determination to kill Kosokov.

Even as Jagger noticed the girl’s shaking, he was moving forward to untie her bonds. Paul took off his coat and handed it to the young girl as she sat up.

She was shaking but she wasn’t crying or hysterical. Her calm frightened Jagger as much as her panic would have.

“Who are you?”

Her voice came out undeniably American and he and Paul exchanged looks. What the hell was an American teenager doing in this hell hole? And what price had she paid for being here?

She didn’t answer the question, her eyes were distant and unfocused. “They raped me.”

Jagger didn’t flinch at the use of the word “they.” He looked around him and his eyes caught the pistol with blood at the end. Oh hell, they hadn’t....

He looked at the girl who nodded. “One of them used it to....” her voice falters but she recovers. “He said he liked it so much that that was how they would kill me. Just insert and shoot.”

Jagger swore. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

She shook her head. “Please my mother.”

“Your mother is here.” At her nod Jagger turned to Paul. “Go search the pens and see if you can find her mother.”

Before Paul can respond a shot rings out and Jagger watches with horror as the back of Paul’s head explodes.

Jagger looks up and sees a not so dead soldier standing in the doorway, one arm blown off but the other holding a gun. Only the man’s loyalty to his cause is keeping him alive to take a few of the enemy with him.

Jagger realizes that in his shock at discovering the girl, he put down his weapon. It was a stupid mistake. Judging by the look on the soldier’s face it would be his last.

He heard the shot ring out, but strangely enough it was the man and not Jagger who fell.

He turned in shock to see the young girl holding with the barrel still smoking the gun that had been used to rape her a short time ago.

It was the first of many times that Sarah would save his life. Or he would save hers.

Jagger shook his head as he watched the sleeping Emily. That world, that morning, sometimes seemed like it was a figment of his imagination. And then sometimes he would look in Sarah’s eyes and realize that it was all too real.

And that neither of them could ever forget it no matter how hard they tried.