Read the beginning of Brann's story in "Fire and Deception" and "Out In The Cold". Mature Warning: Some scenes may contain graphic violence and sexual themes. Images created by Ignus the Foresworn on fotoflexer.com.

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First Class

Brann stepped into the lobby at gate 5, the security checks done. He hadn't liked leaving his weapon behind but he also didn't want to get tossed into a holding cell until things could be cleared up. He looked around for Layla, she was hard to miss standing there in that haughty way. She had said be early, five minutes was still early in his book. Brann totally shoved aside any thoughts that he had delayed on purpose. She was the one who had his new identity delivered the night before they left. If he wasn't running on her schedule it was completely her fault. Layla was lost in thought. She had been asked to confirm the identity of one of the men under her supervision in The Company. She sent him on a mission, as she was instructed by her own superiors. He had come back from the mission, though not as expected. She needed to view his body to make the final confirmation. Like she had always done in The Company, she did as she was told. She stood staring off, coming to terms with the gravity of the situation. It was her fault. She ordered him to go. He trusted her, just as she trusted those above her, and just like she trusted him. He was more to her than just a simple subordinate. She had made the mistake of growing too close to him. She silently vowed to never let that happen again. He moved closer wondering if she had even noticed him or for that matter cared that he had arrived. He did wear the one good suit he had. Another two hours of prep work on it so as "not to embarrass" the diva with his shabby appearance. It was obvious that he wasn't the only one noticing her, Brann's eyes had caught several husbands looking. He turned away from the lobby to look out the plate glass window, while he rolled his eyes. "Early, just like you ask"ordered." He used the corners of his eyes to gauge her reaction to him, and said nothing about a late night phone call. She didn't care what he was wearing. She didn't even notice the time, but she didn't want him to know that. Layla casually glanced at a large clock on one of the airport walls. She said tersely, "No, you're late." She didn't move from her uptight stance, wearing similar business conservative attire as he had initially seen from her. Her black blazer was buttoned, only revealing a small amount of her light blue blouse. Her long black pants almost hid her nude heels. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Like most nights, she wasn't wearing makeup, though she had a secret reason for her healthy natural glow.

Brann handed his boarding pass to the attendant, a pretty woman whose mocha skin and Caribbean accent had him guessing at Jamaica. Her name tag read Aimee which only confirmed it further for him. He didn't turn to see where Layla was, despite his instinct to do so. Instead he tried to pick her out in the poorly polished stainless steel accents he could find. Getting anything from those would take better eyes than he had though. He did favor Aimee with a smile and a wink which brought a return smile from her. She informed him of his seat number and handed him back his boarding pass while finding some reason to touch his arm. Brann ducked through the opening and made for the first class section and the general location Aimee had given him. The new bag was stowed over his head and the door latched. "Wish I knew why we had to fly so late in the day." The words were a sighed whisper he was sure ?no one' could hear. Layla soon followed and approached Aimee in line. Aimee smiled while informing Layla of directions to her seat. Layla glared at her, cutting her smile short. Layla grabbed her pass and turned towards her seat as she heard his remark. She could hear most of what was going on around them, but he caught her attention, in a way that wasn't helping his case. She had her own reasons for doing her work at night. He would have to get used to that. He would also have to get used to keeping his mouth shut if he wanted to coexist with her. She would have to teach him that.

She was silently fuming as she threw her own bag above her in the overhead compartment. She sat down in her seat, somewhat comforted that everything was going according to her plans. She was situated at the back of first class, on the right. There were two seats in her row. The window seat was left empty as she sat next to the aisle to better react to anything. It was also the perfect vantage point to watch over him. He had spotted her as she passed, she had on those long black pants and the nude shoes. Then of course there was the smell that wafted past him, not that he was paying that much attention. Truly a woman who smelled like that was too cold to be warmed by any touch. He didn't look her way, the fact that her ponytail found the edge of his vision was coincidence because he was trying to get into his seat and buckle in. In the last few days he had seen enough of these buckle and crash procedures to perform it himself. He closed his eyes and let the pilots and attendants do their job. He set an alarm on his phone when the pilot said how long they would be in the air. Layla could rot back there, all she would see was Brann sleeping.

As he walked up to pass her, she instantly stood up, blocking his path. Layla took a step out, positioning him between her and her seat. She glared at him, intentionally trying to put his focus on her. He turned slightly to face her. As he did, she put up a hand to his chest and firmly pushed him back onto her seat. Her movements were quick and powerful, though she was surprised when she had to use a little more effort than she had expected. She grabbed her bag from the overhead compartment now above him. She shot him a daring glance as she defiantly walked to the bathroom nearby. It happened quickly Brann barely tracked her getting up let alone the speed with which she maneuvered him into the seat. He was halfway down before he realized he needed to do anything. He still wound up in that seat despite his efforts to stay standing. He had used less against Smith outside of Batten Industries and the man had crumbled before him. He watched as the woman who had put him down so easily then just as gracefully pulled down her own bag and moved off to the bathroom. There was perhaps in his look at her face the traces of respect mixed in with the surprise. Brann looked to the woman across the aisle who was staring at him. He gave a small shrug and a bit of a smile. "I guess when you have to go"you have to go.? Layla soon came out of the airplane bathroom wearing a roughly textured tan jacket, purposefully partially unbuttoned below her bust. Her long dark hair was down and flowed in front of her. It allowed for the occasional glance between loose locks of curls that exposed more than enough of her chest, leaving it to the imagination if there was even a shirt on underneath her jacket. She wore a white denim mini skirt that subsequently left little to the imagination. In one hand, she held a feminine white cloth cowboy hat accented with a sage green and white striped ribbon. She walked next to him with creamy coffee colored boots and returned the bag in her other hand to the overhead compartment. She then stood impatiently waiting for him to get up. Brann had leaned forward pretending to work with the bag on the floor when he saw a pair of boots step near him. They were attractive he supposed though he had never gone in for the cowboy boot look. Perhaps better for him was the calves that extended upward, the smooth skin obviously well taken care of. He let his eyes move slowly up over her knees and onto the equally soft looking skin of athletic thighs. He felt only the briefest twinge of disappointment when her white denim blocked his thoughts of her skin. The moment didn't last long, the woman stretched upwards her long hair moving with the effort and Brann swallowed. Was she truly wearing a jacket only' He rose slowly perhaps it would be easier to figure out from above. The sultry smile hit his face even as he was realizing she had a hat in her hand. He was standing long before his chin came up fully to find Layla's face looking back at him.

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That rich Irish accent flowed once more from his lips t's softened off the end of words and a certain disregard for the th sound in any word. "Tell me now, Aimee right' Ye wouldn' have a spare packet of those cashews now would ye?" The sound of a bag of nuts being caught was followed by a quick. "Tha's a way now darlin'" Richie moved up the aisle with a swagger that spoke of an elation at being treated to a first class ticket. It was obvious from his attire that he had expected to be stuck in coach. He passed by Layla his bag in his hand and never even looked her direction, that hat she had given him sticking haphazardly from his right pocket.

Richie looked down at Joey and his mother leaned over and gave a winking smile. He held up the packet to the mother who squinted then gave a nod before Richie offered it to the boy. "Now I have a problem wee one. The nice ladies gave me more o these than I can eat. Maybe you wouldn't mind taking this one off me hands?" The smile just broadened as Joey reached his little hand up and laughed at the funny sounding man.

Layla casually watched him as he walked by, being prepared for him to be staring at her like the fool he was earlier. The lack of emotion in her face shifted to open bitterness, seeing that he didn't even look in her direction. She determined that he purposefully stuck the hat in his pocket to draw attention to' Her attention shifted to him speaking to the woman behind him. What was he doing with those nuts" Layla glared as he handed them over to the young boy, making him his new best friend.

She remembered where she was, in a plane full of witnesses, so she tried to calm herself. But she remembered. What was she doing" She was supposed to distance herself from him emotionally. How could she do that, when she was letting him get under her skin with everything that he did? Her weakness for accents wasn't helping matters. She groaned quietly to herself and pushed herself back in her seat slightly, keeping an eye on him.

The man in that seat was not the same person in the least. Richie engaged his neighbors in stories about the old country. He turned to make jokes for little Joey when he would his mother would begin to become frustrated. There was of course the advantage to being able to, every now and again, see a bare calf and a cowboy boot. Was that a nervous habit Layla was hiding from him' He would swear every so often he caught her swinging her leg. Richie made the best of the next couple of hours, engaging Aimee every time she passed by. Richie asked if she knew any good places to get a drink near the airport even as he tried not to look at Layla who of course had given specific orders.

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Small Town Setbacks

When you're doing something illegal and potentially harmful, it is important to look like the least likely person to perform that act. Need to start a fire be a fireman, need to taint a water supply be the man who verifies that it is good.

Richie knelt over the water in the reservoir, he had on a pair of thick rubber gloves and an empty vial in one hand. He pulled the stopper and ladled out a bit of the water. Behind him a voice spoke slowly and drawled out many of the words. "Was "bout three months ago when the last feller were here to check the water. Why you back so soon?"

Richie dropped a tablet into the water and swirled it as he looked up to the farmer. His Irish brogue came out along with a large smile and the wink of a green eye. "Now, I'm not sayin" yer wrong, more likely one of them other water sources had a slight problem, and well the department just wants ta be certain?" The liquid in the vial went from clear to a deep red. "Well then, I'm fer thinkin" tha's no a good sign friend. Now if the water had turned blue then all would be well. Anytin" else and I'll be needin" ta take it back fer analyzin"." He held it up for the farmer to see. "I wouldn" advise ye be usin this til we get it checked out."

The farmer looked at the vial and the red water. "What is it' What's wrong with the water?"

Richie shook his head and held up his hands powerless. "I'm no' fer knowin" friend, its sometin" small or its sometin" big. Tha's what ta folks in ta lab coats is fer I'm guessin". I'll be needin" yer number so's we can call ye and let ye know what ye should be doin" next.?

He had run this scenario a half a dozen times, most farmers were grateful to know it was the guy across town that had an issue and near panic stricken to find out it had spread to his water. Richie took the man's name and number and hurried to the van as though he suspected something very bad was going on with the farmer's water reservoir. The dirt kicked up behind the van as Richie sped off down the road in the direction of town.

Layla had been working all night and decided it was time to hit her last target. Her random acts of vandalism were anything but random. She broke into the corner diner and destroyed every box and bag in the dry storage pantry. The flour and sugar wouldn't be missed since there were pies and cakes on display from the day before, but the police wouldn't be able to enjoy their fresh complimentary coffee in the morning.

She had done enough to make the statement she needed to make in the small town community, but she never pushed things too far in her crimes. They needed the town's attention, not their fury. Realizing she probably should have explained those limitations to Brann, she winced when she hear the explosions. It was too late. It would be dawn soon. She sucked it up and made her way back to her motel room. He would pay for it later.

Brann hadn't been alone with her for a while. Sure they were in the same hotel but that was moments here and there as she called him to her and dictated orders at him. The way she was looking at him he wasn't even sure who he was supposed to be right now. He remained silent something very un-Richie like. Fact was it was more like Brann. He had acquired a car for them, a nondescript sedan to help avoid attention. He hadn't expected to be summoned by the Town Council Leader, Ward Evans. The call had come in the early afternoon after he and Layla had returned from their very special shopping spree. He should have known she would insist on flexing her leadership muscles and coming along to monitor him.

He wasn't Brann though, not really. He looked over at Layla, checking her seatbelt which was of course undone. It gave him a good view of her hip, he looked back to the road trying not to be the first to speak and knowing that he would fail in the end. "If I need ta hit da brakes hard me dear, yer gonna find that pretty face o' yers findin' the windscreen. It'd take a fair bit o make up ta make it look normal." He kept his eyes on the road though most of his conscious attention was on Layla and her response to his breaking the silence.

"Don't use that stupid accent with me." She barked as she shifted in her seat, deliberately moving more than she needed to in order to justify her lack of a seatbelt. It wasn't like she needed the extra safety it provided. If she didn't hate him enough for the accent, she would hate him for breaking the silence. She wasn't one who used a lot of words, so she appreciated the sound of silence. Though her lack of words would too often lead to a lack of proper instruction, which caused her to resent him more and speak to him even less. It was a vicious cycle.

Layla was livid, but tried to compose herself since it's not the best idea to attack your driver while in a moving car. She turned back to the road and said coldly, "Thanks for the compliment, Bran Flakes, but can we just get there in peace" I'm going to have to spend some of my evening with Richie, and I really can't handle both of you in one night." She knew Brann was pronounced brawn, but she could still pronounce it incorrectly and use an insulting nickname at the same time. That was another thing she could "pull off'.

The car slowed and he was looking for the right house number. That was as good a reason to look Layla's direction as any. "You're welcome." His eyes had narrowed again, though it had "nothing' to do with her use of his name that way. He was just trying to read numbers. He pulled up next to the curb and shut off the car. Now he did look directly at her. "Don't worry, Richie will come out and you can have all of his time that you can possibly stand." He opened the door and slid out of the car, leaning back in to speak to her. "Don't move?" He slid his palm across his mouth and closed his eyes a moment, that strange flicker behind his iris seemed to have no light source sometimes. When he opened his eyes there was an amused gleam in them. His hand came away to reveal a broad smile that he fixed on Layla. "A moment love, I'll have ye out quick as a flash." The 'stupid' accent was back, and the door was closed. Richie hurried around the car and opened the door for Veronica. "Watch yer step now darlin', I'm a might far from ta curb.? He held a hand out for her, and offered a quick green eyed wink.

She rolled her eyes as he closed his door. When he opened her door, she wore an equally large smile. Oh, but if looks could kill. She shot daggers at him with her eyes as she accepted his hand and gracefully got out of the car. Once fully out, she let go of his hand to wrap herself around his arm. She needed to play the role of the clingy girlfriend who insisted of coming along, after all.

The way she wrapped around his arm sent warnings along his nerves and into his head. This was going to be far more dangerous than he had originally assumed. There was little choice though, this was the role she had given and it was what he would play.

When she heard Richie begin to insinuate that he and Ward should be alone, she considered her options a moment. She could take the opportunity to roam around the house and collect some more information on the man. She reconsidered when she realized she wouldn't be able to get very far. At this late evening hour, his family would be home. Most of the files and paperwork she would want access to where undoubtedly in this room. Ultimately her decision was made for her when Richie moved his hand down to Veronica's rear. She turned towards him quickly, moving his hand placement to her hip. "But Richie?" she whined in her high pitch voice, "I wanna stay here with you...." She turned back to Ward with wide, pleading eyes.

Richie turned back to her when she started to whine. He was watching her closely as she looked to Ward pleadingly. "She's beautiful now, ain't she Ward" A real heart stopper." His hand slid off her hip dropping away slowly as though memorizing it. "She's devoted too, ye see?" He let his volume lower again speaking as though Ward weren't watching every bit of what was going on. "It's all righ' me angel, I'm fer havin ye close ta me anyway. There's a wee bit o' space over dere ye can stand in and keep an eye on me." He nodded to the corner that seemed to have the greatest amount of paperwork in it.

She held her smile to both men as she quietly walked over to where Richie indicated. While Richie would distract him in conversation, she would read over various documents. A nudge here and there could allow her to read much more than what was displayed on the surface of the already haphazard piles.

Richie watched her walk away with a smile as he tilted his head at her. When he turned back to Ward he could tell the man was frustrated at the casual way the pair of them reacted to his accusations. Richie's hands hit his hips and he took a breath. "Now then"Mr. Evans"Ward, I can call ye Ward righ'?" He didn't wait for any response from Ward. "I'm gonna tell ye a story bout a little bit o' property. Ye see when da business districts begin ta leavin,' it has a nasty little tendency ta bring prices down"if ye see what I'm sayin'. I would tink"a man such as yerself would be grateful though tha' there was no injuries reported last nigh'." His smile fell away and he looked at Ward with a face that spoke of things that could have happened instead. "Ta folks I work fer, they're wantin yer land true, but ta offers are goin a might lower"an ta stakes they can only get higher"Do ye feel ta power in me words??

It was clear that Richie had to leave when they got in the car. Clear from the reaction Layla who had dropped the entire Veronica persona, and glared daggers at Brann while uttering just a few words. "Don't talk to me until we get to the motel.' Brann did as commanded though it made for a very long ride back. He had considered turning on the radio but one look at Layla and he wasn't sure he would have a hand left if he tried.

Layla demanded that he follow her to her room. Once inside, she would lock the door behind him. She turned to face him. She began to let her hatred and resentment loose on him, not even stopping for a breath. "What the hell even was that' How was that supposed to convince him to tell the town to sell" He was ready to call the cops on us! We need this thing handled as quickly and smoothly as possible. We need to fly under the radar. How is blowing up gas stations even remotely inconspicuous" Why didn't you just add that to your coverall's name patch' Richie Green, Vandal, Arsonist, Blackmailer."

Brann followed Layla into her room, somehow he was pretty sure she wasn't going to offer him a drink and tell him well done. He hadn't expected her to fly off the handle though. He let her shout for a minute or two before responding almost calmly. "That' I suppose I would call that me doing all the work, putting my head on a chopping block so you can parade around in skimpy outfits and pretend to call the shots!" Brann had lost his cool somewhere around skimpy outfits. He closed his mouth hard to try and calm down but the pulse behind his eyeballs was trying to tell him that would be a futile attempt.

Her next word was inaudible. "Pretend?" Although she was upset, she had actually been tame" until that point. "Listen to me, "Braun'," she got up into his face and called him that to further her point, "I am in charge here and you are to do exactly what I say when I say it. I don't need to do all the work here; that is your job. I proved my worth and there's a lot more than what you think hiding behind this 'skimpy outfit'." She added quickly, remembering another detail, "And how dare you touch me!?

Proud of herself for leading to his downfall, Layla didn't notice his attempt to bring her down with him. His foot hit her leg, sending her crashing down to her knees. She knelt over him for only a moment before deciding to take the height advance. She used the power in her legs to propel herself onto him violently, intentionally trying to hit him directly over his broken ribs.

Brann hadn't expected her to fall onto him that way, the woman straddling his hips sent another fist into his ribs. Pain spiked across his left side and he reacted violently. His right hand balled into a fist and he swung up at Layla like he was fighting for his life.

She attempted to turn away from the incoming blow, but his fist hit her on the side of her jaw. She jerked her head back towards him, glaring at him. She opened her mouth towards the side and popped her dislocated jaw back into place.

Brann used the time she took to fix her jaw to pivot his hips. Their positions reversed though he could still feel the pressure of her knees like steel on his hips. He'd never seen anyone, let alone a woman, take that kind of blow and just shake it off. He tried to grasp her wrists, and gain control of this hellcat that was all over him.

As he was repositioning himself over her, his phone had spilled from his pocket onto the floor. Just as she had begun to use those manicured nails in an attempt to gouge his eyes out while he tried to grab her wrists, the phone began to ring. She looked from him to the phone and quickly grabbed it, using the distraction to break free from his grip. Out of breath, she answered it in as high of a pitch as she could manage, "This is Veronica." She listened a moment. Trying to indicate a stalemate with him, she put a soft open hand on Brann's chest. She continued speaking on the phone, but looked at him. "No, he's on top of something right now. Can I help you?" There was another pause. "Oh, I see. Ok, thank you," she said sweetly before hanging up.

**************************** Brann lay in the room, the pain in his ribs keeping him awake. He couldn't seem to get comfortable, that was only partly because of the pain though. Layla had gotten into his head, he had struck out at her for almost no reason. She had hit him, that much was true but perhaps he had deserved it. He might have been able to signal her that he was going to take advantage of the situation at Ward's house. He shook his head knowing that he wouldn't though. He would do the same thing regardless because he wanted to see what she would do when put on the spot. It had nothing to do with how she had tricked him on the plane, or the cold way she was treating him since landing. Well before landing was probably closer to the truth. Fact was that he felt like he was on his heels with her all the time and would do whatever he could to pull back even. How does one gain balance back though'

He had accused her of liking his touch. Had he even bothered to ask if she had someone" With Darcy he knew in advance, and stayed separated from her. True they had spent time in the Jacuzzi, but it had been friendly. Hardy had been all business, despite how good she looked. She wasn't that much different than Layla was she" She hadn't done things to get under his skin though either. So what was the difference" It was the mission. The mission had kept him separated from them, even after that mission was done in Darcy's case. Brann put his right arm under his head and sighed heavily. "There is a mission here too though." It wasn't his, he was the guy playing along, the one taking orders and having no idea what it was she needed from him.

That didn't really explain it though. Brann didn't care that she was a woman, sure she was gorgeous but far too high maintenance for him. Something about her just rubbed him wrong. So why couldn't he get her out of his head" Why did he keep seeing himself over her and feeling her hand on his chest' "Snap out of it Brann. It's all in your head, she isn't doing things to get to you." She called him Bran Flakes though, more than that she insulted his intelligence with his name as well.

Had she liked it though' Her reaction was violent to his accusation, which seemed a little too hard even for the queen of frost. Would he ever really know the truth' Perhaps a better question was did he like it' Had he done it for more than a test' Did her position over him make her...? Brann shook his head to try and clear it. "Enough, I will simply ignore her, I will be her little soldier and forget how good she feels." Easy to say but he could still feel the curve of her back in his hand. His lips still remembered what it was to touch her cheek, so cool.

"It's only fair, my face still feels bruised, and my ribs will feel it for some time to come...fair enough that the...damn it get out of my head woman!" The Layla in his head refused, she looked on in his mind and laughed the whole time, because she knew she had gotten to him. She'd won this round.

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The sun had been nearly gone when they were getting ready to leave the motel, now a large gathering of friends and family were standing around an open grave. Richie got out of the car and stepped around to let Veronica out and offer her his left arm. He spoke softly to her as they approached the grave site.

"Ta new man's name is Nathan Ferris." He made an effort to pronounce the "th' in the man's name, his brogue was visibly fighting him. "Ye see ta fella yonder standin" kinda off from ta rest." The priest seemed to be finishing as the coffin started to lower and a dirge was sung lowly by the viewers. A pretty middle aged blond broke away slowly, and approached Nathan. She slapped him hard across the face and took her children's hands heading for the black limousine. Richie seemed to smile at the site. "Tha' be our way in now?"

Layla instantly shifted into ditzy Veronica as she stepped out from the car. She held onto Richie's arm and held onto every word he said. She squinted occasionally, focusing extra hard on certain people and names so she could understand what was going on. She so rarely knew what was going on at any time, right' When they noticed the scene, she nodded at his statement. She squeezed his arm lightly to let him know she was ready.

Richie noticed that many of the others were glaring at Nathan as they too slowly dropped handfuls of dirt or flowers into the grave. He and Veronica approached slowly. His arm slid a little from her as she gave him that squeeze. He had been tempted to wince more than once on the slight walk. He rested his hand on her back affectionately, sliding it up and down her spine as though trying to soothe her. "Dr. Ferris I'm tinkin"." He extended his right hand to the man who took it like a drowning man . He looked uncomfortable as the rest of the procession passed by.

When he looked up at Richie, Nathan's light blue eyes were questioning. "That's right."

The doctor seemed to be caught between grateful for the distraction and concerned over the new face. Richie's smile lowered a degree or two for the setting before he continued. "Tha' seems a poor way ta be a" such an occasion." He looked to the limo that was pulling away. "Me name's Richie Greene. Dis is me girl Veronica."

Veronica was genuinely surprised when Richie leaned on her a moment. The doctor saw real concern as her eyes focused on Richie. She began to feel bad for their little tiff, especially since he was still feeling the results. Her attention would soon turn back to the doctor, especially at the mention of Ward's hypovolemia. Had she crossed the line in this mission' Had she crossed the line with Brann" It wasn't good business policy to get into a physical altercation with one of your employees. She let him get under her skin, much like her previous employee. She let him get to her, get too close to her, and he ended up the same way as Ward. She looked over to the open grave. Brann was different though. She didn't hold those same types of feelings for him. He certainly didn't hold any feelings for her either. She let her stare glaze over as she questioned things. She used it to enhance her airhead image.

Brann was grateful that Layla was there to steady him when the pain came. She covered well for the slip in his character. He let Richie back out as he spoke to Nathan. "Yer sayin" someone did it ta him' Who would wan' ta hurt Ward" He was such a" kind soul." He wasn't sure why Nathan was being so chatty but it helped them the more he said.

Nathan took a deep breath and just kept talking. "He was seen with a strange woman the night he was infected. The sheriff is looking for her now, could be that she is very sick too. In either case we need to find her and get some answers."

Veronica turned back to focus on Nathan as he spoke of the woman in question. She stared at him with those pretty little innocent eyes of hers. He would be easier to manipulate. Ward had all of those meddlesome papers that no one needed to see, and now no one ever would.

************* Brann was quiet all the way back to the motel. It wasn't the same ignoring of her that had been happening for the past few days. He was reflecting on the information that Dr. Ferris had given them. In part that was what he was doing anyway. He was distracted away from it often by the way she had clung to him on the walk to the car. He hadn't missed her reaction at the gravesite, neither had he missed the fact that the woman who said it was time to go was no longer Veronica. He didn't ask Layla why she needed to hang onto him that way, certain he would get silence or even dismissed. It was enough that she seemed to need something to hold onto.

He stood now, after that silent drive, in front of the large mirror in the bathroom. The sink was full of warm water and a razor rested in his hand. He looked at himself critically, the bruises on his ribs were taking longer to heal than those on his face. He should expect that he supposed. The shaving cream had been spread over his face, a foamy beard of white clung thickly to him. The head of the razor was in the water moving in slow circles as Brann looked into his own eyes. The flicker of flames behind green irises looked back at him just as critically. "Who are you now" Brann" Who is that anyway?" He raised his right hand, razor poised to take the first swipe at his face. His eyes fell to the tattoo on his hand and wrist. A chain of broken hearts twisted around and up his forearm. There were three red hearts larger than the rest, five smaller links separated them from one another. The larger hearts differed too, the first was by far the largest and was set on the back of his hand. The five links in between were black as sin though.

Brann's eyes locked in the reflection of that tattoo in the mirror even as the head of the razor hit his skin. Who are you now" He had asked himself that and perhaps forgotten something that he knew he couldn't escape. The head of the razor bit deep into his cheek before the handle broke and sent it into the clear water. You are who you have always been, Oathbreaker. His words in his head and he hated them. The blood flowed from the cut on his face and dripped into the water of the basin. Brann pulled a towel down and freed his face of the white beard. He pressed the towel to his face until the bleeding stopped. The water in the sink had turned pink, Brann disengaged the stopper and watched the tainted water flow down the drain. A few minutes later found Brann outside of Layla's room tapping. He had put on fresh clothes and the keys to the van were in his hand. "I'm going to the store. I need a new razor, can I get you anything while I am there?" He waited for half a minute hearing nothing but silence from the other side. That would have annoyed him earlier today. Not this time though, this time had him more concerned than irritated. He considered forcing his way in, but thought better of it. "Well, if you think of anything I have my phone.? He made his way silently down the hall and into the elevator. ******************

Brann held onto a smile when the door opened, despite the way she jumped right at him. He stepped through the door as she gave him room. The flicker appeared and disappeared behind his irises once again. He shook his head and looked away as a sigh pushed out of him. "I can't tell you my problem if I am supposed to keep quiet." He looked around the room, a white box was pushed into a corner, and there was a laptop open on the desk as well. He could see notes drawn on pieces of paper as well as a full waste paper basket.

When he looked back to her he did notice that she was definitely not at her best. The outfit aside, there was much to be lingered over that included the flesh of bare feet and rainbow pink toenails. "I knew it, holing up in here. Don't take this wrong but, if anyone looks like they need to get out and have a drink, it's you." He tried for some kind of amusing tone but was sure it came off as hostile. "Come out with me, it isn't far and we don't have to stay long. You need a break though, and we both need to keep up appearances."

Layla closed the door softly behind him. She grabbed the back of her neck with both hands and looked up at the ceiling, as if almost considering his offer. She felt the loose strands of hair then. Pulling out the band that held her ponytail together, her hair fell down her back as she said, "I don't have time for this. I'm behind in my other projects." She began to brush her long dark hair by running her fingers through it.

Brann watched her as she went through the motions of looking like she was thinking about it. He was about to speak when her hair came down, and her fingers went through it. He released the held breath as she started to work her brushing. Instead of talking or arguing he moved to an empty chair and took a seat into the flowered upholstery.

"You're probably right, I don't think that you should be alone tonight though. I'll be more than happy to sit here with you and talk. If that is what you prefer." He fixed her with that smile he had given her on the plane when he thought she was someone else. "I don't know about your other projects, but if they are more important by all means work on those, and don't mind me. Should I order a pizza?" He started to rifle through the drawers on the nearest table looking for the complimentary phone list of nearby restaurants.

Layla focused on her reflection in the mirror, intentionally ignoring him. Using one hand to close and replace the eye shadow container into her makeup bag, she smeared the brown line on each eyelid with a light touch from a finger on her other hand. "We will grab a drink, chat for a bit to maintain our availability to the town, and then we'll head back." With her hand still inside the bag, she then pulled out a thin black stick.

Separating the cover from the stick, she laid the lid on the counter. She began to create a dark coat of eyeliner around her eyes, making a slight swoop at the outside corners. "We need to do enough, make just enough of some drunken scene or something to make sure at least a few people remember us being there. You know how word spreads in small towns?" She positioned the cover back over the eyeliner and placed it back in her bag. She spoke as if she was doing nothing. All of her movements were choreographed like a dance she had preformed many times. She had to perform various roles and she could play the fashionista just as easily as anything else. One movement blended into the next, just as flawless as her blended eye shadow. She looked up at him in the mirror.

There's something about her movements that sent chills across Brann's skin. Like the perfect song, he couldn't divert his attention. He knew she was talking but his focus had disappeared. It was strangely hypnotic watching the make ups appear, seeing her apply them so precisely. He watched her eyes change, the color intensify by her efforts. Brann was barely breathing, staring at her like he had never seen her before in his life. He made sure to nod and at least make a sound as she spoke though if words came out of him he wasn't overly sure what he had said.

She wasn't looking at him, he wanted her to be. It felt like she was ignoring him just to get to him. He straightened from his leaning post and moved closer to her though he was barely aware of the movement. That was when she looked at him, he moistened his lips and managed to look back without feeling the need to look away. "I don't think anyone could miss you." Brann straightened, his gaze falling away enough that he was able to turn away from the look in the mirror. "You have much more of that to do' I would hate for it to be too late to go."

The walk to the bar was as short as Brann had promised. The nice thing about small towns is there is a lack of traffic on the main roads. The building was done in a style reminiscent of an old western saloon. Brann supposed it could have been one that had survived. If so the doors had been modified to close and lock. The bar itself took up most of the back wall inside, there was a large mirror and plenty of neon advertising shining at the patrons. There was a second floor, but the stairway inside the bar had long ago been taken out. Brann knew from having gone through the back that there were steps leading up. The apartments were occupied by the bar tenders, a real convenience in transportation to and from work.

Layla had changed her demeanor as they approached the doorway, becoming Veronica, and suddenly having no issues with being close to Brann. He supposed she could make the distinction though that he was no longer Brann. That was probably a good thing in reality. Brann couldn't find himself attracted to Veronica much beyond her looks. Vapid women held little interest for him, he liked a woman that could hold her own in any given circumstance. Layla wasn't an option, she was far too erratic for him. If she weren't so blasted unpredictable she had so many virtues he did enjoy. He looked at Veronica once before pushing the door open.

There was no question she was intelligent, neither was there any question as to her ability to handle herself. She got under his skin though, aggravating him seemingly on purpose. Worse than that she likely thought it was him trying to get to her. He took one last breath before pushing through the door to a chorus of voices calling out "Richie". Richie's smile was in place, he didn't look towards Veronica part of him afraid she would hold Layla's disapproving look. The girl behind the bar poured out a Guinness and nodded.

"First one's up Richie. How was your day?"

He was supposed to be building their image, and he was. He was supposed to be gaining more information on the townspeople, and he was. He was doing everything he was supposed to do, and he was good at it. That was why she was upset now. She looked to Jimmy and held her tongue. Oh, she would "treat' him before they had to leave the town, he could be sure of that. She looked to Richie and answered sweetly, "I'll take my usual, love muffin." She put extra emphasis on muffin. She glared at him for a moment so he would understand why.

Richie looked at Veronica and pretended she had the sweetest look in the world on her face. Brann had picked up on the insult again. It wasn't just muffin she was saying but "bran' muffin. Richie turned to Lila and ordered loudly. "Lila be a dear and whip up one o doze Murder On ta Beaches for Veronica." He still wore that same grin when he turned back to Veronica, though there was a bit of a glare returned to her. His of course was accompanied by that odd flicker that the lights were always playing in his eyes. "Maybe yer fancyin" some music too me darlin?" I could step to ta box and pick sometin" pretty ta match yer eyes."

Lila was holding onto a smile as she watched the lovebirds with an odd sort of fondness. The glass she prepared getting measured quantities of different alcohols. The glass she laid down for Richie was the color of blood. He paid Lila, giving her a more than generous tip. "Buy sometin" nice for ta wee one, Lila." Part of Brann hoped Layla would be upset by how easily he spent "her" money.

Veronica's grin faded at his order. When she saw the blood red drink, she shot him a glare. She smiled to Lila and nodded, silently thanking her. She again bit her tongue as Richie paid. Sure, why not give the cute little brat a college fund while he was at it' She paused in thought a moment, trying to remember if it was a girl or a boy. If she remembered right, it said in her records that she had a young daughter. Milly. Something sickeningly sweet like that. She was a pretty little girl though. The records included a picture, much to Layla's dismay.

She didn't like to know everything about the people she was supposed to be manipulating. She never had the inclination to get as close as" She looked to Richie and responded, "Oh no, my darling, let's go and sit and enjoy our drinks." She continued with a threatening tone, just low enough for him to hear, "We can dance later.? She figured they still had unfinished business from their first scuffle and if he pushed her too much tonight, he'd find himself in the same position.

Brann was becoming more frustrated with her. It seemed that no matter what he did she wasn't satisfied. He had gone toughly at Ward and she had wanted kid gloves. He had been too destructive with the vandalism. He could barely get more that two or three words out of her at a time, and she was making things difficult with him having to decide everything for Veronica. He leaned low over the table trying to get her to look at him. "What's with you anyway' I thought this was what you wanted" You have been pushing me to be more subtle since we got here, now that I am you don't even want to talk to me. Maybe this is a mistake." Brann shook his head, taking a moment to rub at the space between his eyebrows.

She stared at him blankly a moment, surprised by his sudden outburst. She swallowed hard from her drink. "Oh, make certain of that; this is definitely a mistake. I don't know whose sick joke it was to have you work with my team, but there is no way you can cut it. You have no idea what "I want' or what I need. I need someone to work as hard as I do. I'm back at the motel looking up the important information about all these little town folk while still keeping track of my team while they're out doing their own missions, but you?" Her voice was getting louder as her anger intensified, "You're out every night with your drinking buddies!" She realized her error and turned to find a few faces staring at her. She half smiled and sunk down slightly in the booth. She silently begged him not to return her anger in a similar fashion.

Brann's eyes snapped to Layla's face when she started to get heated. He didn't have to look to know that they had suddenly become center stage. He wanted to say he knew what she needed but this was definitely not the place for it. Instead he picked up his glass and took a long sip off of it. "Veronica, me heart string. Ye know I been askin" ye fer days ta come out an meet me friends. Yer always talkin" bout how yer fearin" ta embarrass me." He stretched his hand out to try and cover hers, that red heart tattoo on the back of his hand showing up at her. "Yer, too hard on yerself darlin"."

He watched her, but could see the attention of the room fading away from them. He lowered his voice again and became Brann. "And don't think I didn't see that cooler either, or that I lack the memory to place it. We have what we need in your room and in this bar. If I were in a questioning mood I may even ask where that little concoction I've been adding to the water came from." His thumb caressed her wrist tenderly despite the lump of anger that was inside his chest.

Layla sighed softly and looked to Brann as Lila began to take more orders. An unvoiced thank you was expressed, but it soon was interrupted with her contempt and scorn. "You just "have" to give out all my money, don't you? First you give away my Bugatti to some random chick you pick up at a bar?"

Brann thought he saw something in Layla's expression for a moment, clearly he was seeing things. Layla was an iceberg and crushed anything in her path. The irony of meeting Darcy in a bar hit him and put a grin onto Richie's face. "If yer lookin" fer ta best me dear, yer havin" ta pay fer it." He picked up the fresh glass and drained it quickly. "Perhaps ye want ta go back ta our room so's I can chase ye round ta furniture?"

Her mouth dropped half open. There was a slight delay followed by a harsh scoff. She was so livid, she couldn't even speak. She blinked a few times as if she was slapped in the face and trying to reorient herself. She eventually growled under her breath, "You are lucky there are witnesses here." She downed her own drink and said in her high pitched Veronica voice, "Yes, baby, take me in our room, I mean, to our room." She giggled loud enough to be hard by a few nearest to them. She looked like she was going to be sick. She couldn't tell if it was the drink, or the words she just choked out.

Richie slid out of the booth offering a hand as usual for her to take. He was no longer sure if he did it because it was what Richie would do, or because he knew she hated it. With his back to the rest of the bar he spoke quietly to her as she got up. "There won't be witnesses for long, am I gonna need to sleep with my gun under my pillow?" He let out a very Richie laugh as Veronica "accidentally' misspoke. He did his best to stay as close as possible to her on the way to the door, though he was sure he would end up paying for it very shortly.

Layla only smiled when she heard his question. She thought it was cute that he thought a gun could stop her. Veronica accepted his hand and began to walk out with him, smiling politely at all the patrons they passed. She had another reason to smile. She was looking forward to shutting her door in his face when he walked her to her room.

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He passed by the bar as Drowning Pool began to whisper into his ears. Let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the Floor! Brann's brows contracted and he started into a pace that should have been too much for him to maintain. Flashes of things hitting his mind and making him shake his head involuntarily to drive them away. A pair of darkened eyes looking at him expectantly from a mirror, or was that demandingly' What did she want from him' He had given her everything she had asked for, more in fact.

He'd made friends with people whose family were dying, all in the hopes to score a single contact. His legs pumped harder and Bran let his mouth fall open as loosely as possible. He gulped air like a fish drank, though he was far from fatigued. The hood was pulled away though to give him some relief from the heat he was generating, maybe allow for the sweat in his hair to cool him a little. Perfection was what she required, and what was worst about that was she would never admit when he had done the job.

Sick Puppies shot across his headphones with You're Going Down. He couldn't get that face out of his mind as the song played. Brann had no idea where he was, or how far he had gone away from the motel. He didn't care much either yet, he'd run all night if he needed to. Perhaps he could drive himself to exhaustion, and a place where he could collapse. More songs flew across the phone, Trapt with Stand Up, The Kill by 30 seconds to Mars.

The rising of the sun in the east had him standing back in front of the motel as AFI began Miss Murder. He waited in the parking lot looking up at the building and wondering if he could take being in this place much longer. It wasn't the town, it was her. Davey Havok was singing words into his ear that seemed to mean everything and nothing at the same time.

What's the hook, the twist Within this verbose mystery" I would gladly bet my life upon it. That the ghost you love, your ray of light Will fizzle out without hope. We're the empty set just floating through, wrapped in skin Ever searching for what we were promised. Reaching for that golden ring we'd never let go, but who would ever let us put put our filthy hands upon it"

Brann paused in front of Layla's door, his chin was on his chest and he breathed heavily. Offering it a sidelong glance he was tempted for a moment to tap and have it out with her. The fingers of his right hand curled like he would knock, then they straightened and unzipped the fanny pack and pulled out his key card. Brann's heart was pounding, but he couldn't really see a good reason for it. He pushed into his room once again and stripped down leaving a trail of clothes to the shower.

***********************************

Richie set the cooler into a cushioned chair. He looked at Nathan a moment catching his bottom lip between his teeth and wetting it slightly as he figured out how to proceed. "Was a pleasant surprise ta hear from ye Doctor." Richie looked to the cooler and opened the laptop tapping the access code into it. There was a hiss of released pressure and the top of the cooler disengaged. Richie opened it for Nathan and stood aside. "Ye have what yer needin" in here. Ye said sometin" about testin" it." He put the rack of vials on the desk for Nathan to take as he needed.

Nathan's expression was defeated, like he was ready to deal with the devil himself. He was quiet for a moment before pulling a vial out and looking at it in the light. Richie smiled as the man took it into his hand. "How long before we're knowin" yer decisions?"

Nathan was tried to keep hope out of his voice when he responded. It was more likely that Richie and his company were simply trying to pull a fast one. Nathan had little choice though, there weren't alternative medications that even touched this outbreak. "I'll need to initiate the infusion. After it begins I can take a peak level" I can determine its effectiveness from there." He looked at Layla's vacant eyes and broke it into simpler terms. "I'll start it as an IV. I can take a blood sample an hour later and the lab can get me the results in about 15 minutes. Then I'll be able to see if it's working."

Veronica stared at Nathan in disgust at the mere mention of blood. She wrapped her arms tighter around Richie's arm. Richie whispered soothingly to Veronica. "Everyting will be all right me darlin?. Nathan had an orderly lead them back out and into a waiting room. The place was done in orange and brown, though it was hard to pick up on with all the people waiting within. A pair of seats was available by a window that ran floor to ceiling. The long vertical blinds were open and the evening view of the parking lot below was the most visible feature that could be seen.

Richie received several waves as they walked through the room. He stood waiting for Veronica to seat herself when the sound of his name caught his attention. He gave the barest tick of a smile to Veronica before turning to see who had called to him. An attractive woman crossed to him, blue eyes shining as though she had just finished crying. Her smile was white, the slight overbite somehow making the smile prettier. She was full figured but wore it well, with long sandy hair that fell in spirals.

Layla watched Brann occasionally from over her magazine. She would flip the page every once in awhile, seemingly studying every word on the hippest fashions from who knows where designed by some man or another. She was convinced the whole fashion industry was controlled by men who only sought to cut down women. Putting their models in the ugliest things they could think of to disgrace them, then having the audacity to call it fashion and making women want it' but her own ideals were a matter for a different mission. Now she would focus on Richie and how he made his rounds. She could almost be led to believe Brann might be half as nice.

Brann hadn't measured time, though perhaps he could have by the shows that appeared on the television over head. To him one laugh track melded into another as a show about a man telling a story to his kids became one about overeducated men who made high brow jokes. He didn't react to the last one, or the way the female lead reminded him of a blond version of Veronica. A nurse entered unobtrusively, Richie noticed, and Brann wondered if that were something they taught in Nursing School. "Mr. Greene" The doctor will see you now."

Richie rose at his name, he looked to Veronica seeing her rise. He met her on the way to the door, caught for a moment by how she looked in his jacket. The nurse led them down the hall, she didn't take them to his office though. The trio stopped outside of room three oh two, the nurse held up a finger for them to wait and stuck her head inside saying simply 'doctor" before leaving them to wait alone. The man that came out of the room was Dr. Nathan Ferris, though he looked far more relieved than any doctor should.

Richie's voice seemed to barely register in the corridor. "An, ye find me wonderin" doctor if tings are goin" as expected?" Nathan looked at Richie as though having to untangle that question to find out exactly what the Irishman said.

Nathan's face though relieved was still serious as he spoke. "The lab results showed therapeutic levels." Once again though he looked to Veronica, Richie intervened this time though. "So it's workin'den" Ye don' know how glad me company will be ta hear da news. Perhaps ye should keep what dose's we got' See if it works for more"n jus" one?" He kept his eyes on Nathan, as he dropped the final condition on the doctor. "Course ye know ta conditions, I'm tinkin" dere's more"n a few will reconsider ta offer??

Their car was in the parking lot so he stopped outside of Layla's room and knocked. He was of two minds about the situation. The first was pissed that he had been left behind. The second was aware that somehow he had managed to upset Layla into leaving him. "I know you're in there, can I come in?"

Layla had packed up all of her belongings. She made the bed, replacing even with the strange fabric wrap that was tucked into the bottom of the bed when she had arrived. The complimentary items went unused and were put back neatly where they had been left out. She sat calmly in the desk chair watching some mindless reality show rerun on the television. She had little else to do, since she packed up her laptop. When she heard him, the show suddenly became more enthralling, leaving her unable to focus on a response.

Brann pounded again, louder this time despite the late hour. "You left me without, asking if I wanted to go. Broke character twice, maybe even three times....I think I deserve?" He grit his teeth and stared daggers at the door, wishing it were her standing in front of him instead of a heavy piece of thick wood with a knob. ?"you act like you give a damn about a name and number, when we both know that you can barely stand to look at me." He waited another couple of heartbeats before giving up and going to his own door.

Layla jumped up from her seat as he began into his rant. Luckily, there wasn't anyone on their hallway. Not many people visiting the small town now due to the outbreak of the mystery disease. She started to cuss him out in her head before she even got to the door. Who did he think he was" What gave him the right to break character so extensively like that in a public environment' What made him think he could dare talk to her like that' She began to lay into him with her own arguments as she threw open the door, but he was already to his own door next to her own. She bit her tongue, closed the door, and went back to her show.

Brann shook his head, angry with her for not answering sooner and himself for not waiting longer. He didn't even manage to get a word out before the door closed on the hallway again. He gritted his teeth and shouldered his way into his room. He yanked the coat off, looking at it a moment before hanging it neatly on one of the non-removable hangers on the coat rack. He reached into the pocket and pulled free the number frowning at it. He finally crumpled it and threw it away. "This was your fault you know." He spoke to Layla even though she wasn't there. "That whole airport incident was your plan.?

Brann's indifference faltered and he sent his eyes rolling upwards. His phone was in his hand, the cab company number being second on his call list. "I need a cab at the motel six over on' You know the place" Can I have an E.T.A. on that?" He was watching the back of her head as he talked on the phone. "Twenty minutes" no we'll be out front waiting." He hung up waiting for her to pretend to see him again. "Twenty minutes, I only need a few to pack. Did you need me to check you out, Boss?" He turned his back on her before giving her the chance to answer him. He realized she was way ahead of him on the packing.

Layla turned to look at him, but she wasn't paying attention. Still talking to Stephen on the other end of the line, she dismissed Brann with a wave of her hand as she continued, "Yeah, we'll be at the airport in twenty minutes". Good. The rest of the shipment is already on the plane with a crew?" She smiled, staring at the wall in front of her now. "You are too good to me?"

Brann stiffened at her words to Stephen. He pretended not to notice, the door always closed itself that hard. Ten minutes had him out front in blue jeans and a dark t-shirt under the leather coat. "I assumed dress was up to me since you didn't make specific demands this time." There was a smirk on his lips when the cab pulled up to take them back to the airport. He opened the door for her, and did his duty in stowing "all" the luggage in the trunk. This time he made sure to take that back seat with her.

The cab ride to the airport would feel like another eternity, especially since she had to sit next to him this time around. At least once they made it onto the plane, she could distance herself, purposefully getting seat far from each other again. She would be happy if that was their last mission together, but she never knew what the Company had planned. She took some consolation from the sight of medical supplies crates being unloaded from the plane into trucks. Just like it always had done, the Company would make good on its promise. The townspeople would get better, they would be given their cash, they would move, and the silent oil company would get its valued property. All would end well, though there had been a few casualties along the way, including one disappearance, though most people just assumed Jimmy must have simply moved without a word.

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