Sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter, hugging a bowl of rice to her chest as she ate, Geneviève carefully chewed and swallowed each bite. Ji had given her a few aspirins, a shot of rum for her hangover, and had made her breakfast. A bottle of unopened water set at her elbow.

Leaning against the far wall, smoking idly, he was watching her when a surprising thought occurred to him.

"We need to get out of here, Mouse. Soon." The spoon stopped mid-air as she looked up. The question was written on her face. "I think we need to be sure you're pregnant. If you are... Ginny, that changes everything."

"I don't understand," setting the spoon into the bowl, her eyes stayed on him. He read the fight or flight mode building in her posture.

"For starters... you need to be healthy and you're not yet. Secondly, this isn't the kind of life to have a kid in. And third, you'll need to be settled into a new life somewhere safe before you have that kid. Somewhere you can raise it in peace."

"Isn't that here?"

His snort was amused as he blew smoke from his nose. Shaking his head, Ji grinned.

"No. This is just a pit stop. They'll show here, sooner or later, and I'd like to be gone."

They. It hung in her mind like a swinging noose. The pirates. If not Gabriel, any one of them could have fathered the child growing inside of her- suddenly sick she shoved the bowl from her lap, ignoring the clatter as it tipped over. Leaping off the counter she barely made the garbage bin in time. Ji was behind her in a second, scooping her hair aside as she threw up, gagging hard.

Choking as she tried to suck in a fresh breath, Geneviève let out a frightened cry, coughing on bile. A big, warm hand firmly patted her back until she could breathe, trembling hard.

"That was unexpected," he soothed quietly. "You okay?"

Her nod was shaky, still clinging to the edges of the bin.

"You okay if I move?"

Embarrassed, thinking he was leaving her alone, Geneviève hung her head, features twisted into a disgusted grimace. How pathetic was she? How was she ever going- a soft touch startled her into looking up. Ji knelt there with a damp wad of paper towels. Taking it, she swallowed hard. It was warm, and after patting her eyes and nose, she wiped her mouth.

"Merci, Ji,"

"Here," cracking open the water bottle, he handed it over. "Swish and spit, Mouse."

Obedient, she felt better as he helped her to stand.

"Done eating?" A quick glance at the spilled rice bowl and she cringed guiltily but he noticed, squeezing her hand. "It's okay. There's more."

"I am still hungry,"

"Pick a seat, I'll serve it up."

"Non," her hand caught his arm. "You do too much for me! I can-!"

"Did that sound like a question?" Vividly piercing, eyes full of warmth, humor, and darkness searched hers. "Go sit somewhere."

"Why won't you let me help?"

"Because if you hadn't just thrown up, I'd be kissing you right now, and keeping my hands busy keeps them off of you."

"I thought... I thought you just liked being with me...?"

"I do, but that doesn't mean I can't still taste you on my tongue."

Ginny decided she would sit on the table, her feet dangling several inches above the floor. Ji served another bowl of rice and as their eyes met, she felt the beginning of a smile tug on her lips. Fingers crossed hers, his head tilting slightly as he studied her with veiled interest. Her smile fought to show, evidenced by the way she bit the inside of her cheek. Clearly interested now, Ji put both hands on the table, his arms framing where she sat.

"Ji?"

"Eat." Leaning forward, he shrank the space between them to less than a foot. "Before I forget you just threw up."

Geneviève felt her heart racing, but a layer of anxiety was stirring to life in her mind. Before she could do anything stupid, or fall back into hated habits, she spooned a mouthful of rice into her mouth. Ji grinned, accepting the silent declaration of independence, but made no move to back off. Grinning like idiots, they stared at each other the entire time she ate.

When she finished, he pulled out a seat as he shook a cigarette loose and lit up, inhaling. She waited, just watching. A ring of bluish smoke drifted from his lips.

"We need to leave." He anticipated the concern flooding her features as a frown puckered her brows.

"When?"

"The sooner the better. I'd like to leave today if we can."

"... how will we go?"

"Same way we got here. There are fuel canisters out back I can fill the tank with, and I think they'll fit inside the ATV. That's where things get... sticky."

"And sticky is bad?"

"When we're planning on a clean getaway, yes."

"What's sticky?"

"We have no cash. For a bunch of water rats that live on the edge of nowhere and don't participate in avenues of legal income, they didn't leave anything behind." Blowing toward the ceiling, he took a minute. "How do you feel about stealing?"

"It's bad." Her answer was so automatic that they both blinked in surprise, then Geneviève frowned. "Well... I think it is. Right? I mean... I was never allowed to touch anything that wasn't given to me,"

"There's a third option."

"Really?" Sitting up higher, she searched his expression. "What?"

"I call in to the people I work for. They'll have a team here in probably less than six hours. We're airlifted out and taken back to headquarters." The way he said that made her skin prickle and she shifted away from him unconsciously. "They'll ask lots of hard questions, Ginny. And they won't accept that you won't want to talk about it."

"I can't," shaking her head, Geneviève popped to her feet backing toward the door. "I c-can't tell anyone! He'll kill me! He'll kill me if I do!"

"That's not the worst part," Examining the tip of the smoke, Ji lifted his brows in resignation. "You're not an American citizen, so odds are, they'll turn you loose and forbid me from interfering anymore. I don't know who's after you, but out there on your own... I'm guessing it won't take him long to find you."

"Please don't let them-!"

"Take it easy, Mouse,"

"Please, Ji, please?"

"I'm bringing it up because... once my employers find out I could have checked in with them and didn't... they'll be hard on to get their hands on me. Which means finding you. It means trouble, Ginny. Real trouble. Not water rats and petty thugs, but deep six, top level, trained killers, government agencies tapping your cold corpse in the grave, trouble."

"Will you protect me?" Shivering, she hugged herself. "If... if we run away and don't tell anybody... will you protect me?"

"Is that what you want?"

Nodding anxiously, Geneviève forced herself to meet his eyes. Flat, hooded, bottomless pools of swirling ocean, they glowed as he nodded too. Whoever he was, whatever he could do, her fear of Ji vanished in that instant. Flying from the chair she hit his chest hard enough to topple him backwards, her arms already tight around his waist. They hit the floor in a clatter of chair legs and the empty rice bowl as he swore in comically descriptive words.

Burrowing into him, cinching her arms, Ginny squeezed her eyes closed, beginning to tremble. Memories and raw emotions were rushing in on her so fast she began to panic. Gabriel was going to kill her for this. He would hurt her beyond anything she could ever imagine, then kill her.

Ji sensed her elation morphing and folded his arms around her without bothering to get up.

"Listen to my voice, Mouse," he told her calmly. "Can you hear me?"

Her nod was faint but the hot puffs of breath through his shirt indicated she was starting to hyperventilate. Recalling a few of the tools Nomi Bordeaux had given him for his 'panic attacks', Ji forced himself to stay in control.

"Imagine a bright, open space," he soothed, holding her tighter. "You're in the middle. Can you see it?"

Her nod was shaky, tears soaking into his shirt.

"Pick up the staff at your feet. It's big, but not heavy. Hold it with both hands in the middle. Got it?" Another nod as she sniffled, trembling hard. "Okay... everything you don't want to feel are people surrounding you dressed in all black, covered from head to foot. No features, no voices, no eyes, just dressed in black. Can you see them?"

"Ji-!" Hysteria jolted her from his arms as she scrambled upright but he caught her, tucking her writhing form back against his chest.

"You're safe," he told her firmly. "They're not going to hurt you. I won't let them."

"Ji... I'm sc-scared..."

"Use the staff. Swing it as hard as you can around you. Force them to back up. No voices. No faces. No sound. No feeling. Just space to breathe." He felt her shoulders stiffen and then gradually relax as she pictured the scene. "Like that... keep the staff moving, flowing like water. Nothing is touching you. No one is hurting you. You're just breathing, in and out."

"In and out," she mumbled, starting to soften into his arms. The men in black stood motionless in a wide circle around her, not moving, not speaking. Not attempting to hurt her. As long as she held onto the staff. As long as she kept breathing. Not feeling. Nothing at all-

After a little while, Ji eased them upright, cradling Ginny to him. She was awake but completely limp, her eyes half-closed. In shock... or simply lagging in her mental ability to process what was happening. Either way, she'd stopped panicking.

"Come on," he muttered into her hair. "We're leaving this rat hole."

Buenos Aires, Argentina

"Strange,"

"What?" Rémy was glad to be back, sipping the shot of espresso as Ikeno worked at the vast array of computer screens. They'd only been working for a half hour. Concerned eyes glanced up briefly.

"Someone else recently made the same search I did and got the information you asked me to find."

"What!"

"Look," Ikeno pointed to identifying markers that meant nothing to Rémy, but he nodded anyway, digging a hand through his hair. "Someone else is looking for the girl."

"Who." Pacing, the Frenchman was struggling to breathe. Darche was going to kill him! "Can you find out who?"

"There're no tracers left behind. Whoever it is knows their business. As well as I do..." a few clicks of the mouse, some murmuring, and changes in the screen, then Ikeno hmphed. "Japan. One of the IP addresses pinged in Japan. Does that mean anything?"

Rémy had gone white, his knees wobbling as he almost crashed into a seat. Sousa was at his side in a flash, steadying his head.

"Amado-?"

"This is a disaster..." the moan was pained as Rémy folded forward, abruptly nauseous. "I'm so dead."

"What's wrong? Amado," kneeling, Ikeno stroked his hair as he muttered intelligibly to himself. "Please, talk to me. Let me help."

"The only way you can help is if you can tell me where the whores at. This instant. Real-time Otherwise... I'm going to disappear for good, and it won't be by choice."

Chicago, Illinois

"Stupid kid!" Orzo slammed the phone down with a bang, chest heaving. "Can't do a single thing right!"

"What is it now?" Amanda strolled in from the next room, swirling a glass of scotch with two ice cubes in it. Her husband looked up, furious and her step slowed. The lesson in the bedroom had not yet been forgotten.

"Your boy toy is failing miserably!"

Lips twitching, Amanda decided she had better not address that topic right then. Instead, she moved around to perch on the corner of the desk, taking a sip of scotch.

"No word of Benji?"

"No word of anything! Tony hasn't made a single phone call once since renting that stupid airplane in Panama!"

"Patagonia,"

"Don't start with me," Scarpetti snarled at her, eyes narrowed. His mood matched the office décor. Bleak, dark, oppressive. Black leather furniture, deep walnut fixtures, a huge walnut desk, and deep wine carpeting and drapes. Depressing. But it didn't show the blood stains. Standing up, she walked smoothly around the desk to stand behind him, gliding a hand across his wide shoulders. Orzo grunted but didn't shake her off.

"He'll call in. As soon as he has something to tell you." A fingertip dipped into the liquor, tracing lightly around his temple then down the bridge of his nose to his mouth where she wet his lips. "Be patient,"

Quick as a cat he'd turned, wrenching her around, the glass flying from her hands. It hit the floor, the ice cubes clattering against the wall but neither looked. Orzo had her pinned between him and the desk, slowly bending her backward until she was beneath him. Roughly pushing her legs apart, he shoved the hem of her skirt up.

"Distract me," he ordered, daring her to refuse. Amanda smiled, wrapping her legs around her husband's waist as her fingers tangled into his tie, pulling his lips down to hers. Soon, she told herself, very soon, this pig will be dead and I'll spit on his grave. Until then...