Ha, take that! Taylor hit the send button. The little shit was dead. Or he would be when he booted up again. She laughed as she shut down and left the school. They'd all be crying to their mommies when they couldn't turn in their term papers. This is just too much fun. I can't believe that after a year of this I still get kicks. I need a cigarette.

She wandered down the campus, out the unprotected entrance directly into downtown. The harsh winter wind pushed her down to Stucky's. At the ATM she used a stolen card to get a few hundred dollars cash. The security camera was broken, no need to worry there. Like she'd worry anyway? They couldn't catch her. They didn't even know where to begin.

She entered the steamed heat of Stucky's, picked up a pack of Marlboro's, a coke and a deli sandwich. The pimple-faced punk behind the counter didn't even give her a second glance.

Where to now? Job's done, a little org voice piped up in her head. Fuck off, she told it. This was no time for memories.

As she walked down the main street a light snow began to fall. A stretch limo with windows an illegal shade of black coasted slowly up beside her. There was the unmistakable swoop of glass against rubber and the low contralto voice of her employer beckoned.

"Get in," the voice said.

With an unaccustomed sigh of agitation Taylor stepped into the warm, plush interior of a very wealthy, very evil woman's limo.

"Where have you been?" the sultry voice accosted her.

"Out," Taylor replied shortly. She was in no mood for the seduction number.

Angel’s face peered out of the darkened interior, cast in light and shadows. Her pale hair shimmered in the streetlight attempting to penetrate the shaded windows. She sneered, anger darkening her pale eyes.

Instinctively Taylor caught the hand that was about to slap across her face. "Don't," she hissed coldly."I own you, little girl. You will not talk back to me." The sultry voice was now edged with a dangerous undertone.

Taylor lowered her head in an attempt to appear humbled.

The woman was not impressed but wasn't about to push the matter. "Did you get the job done?"

Angel wasn’t talking about the little virus at the school. "Of course."

"Good." Angel pulled a packet and an envelope from a hidden side compartment. Then she motioned the driver to stop. The conversation was over.

Taylor stepped out into the cold. It was harsher now then ever before. On the sidewalk, snow falling in white sheets, she reviewed the file, dumped it in the nearest garbage can and lit up a cigarette.

The snow swirled and screamed against her and for the first time in six years she felt the loneliness sink in.

Slow, despondent steps took her down the sidewalk to the outskirts of the city. The sun was rising as Taylor came upon what appeared, on the outside, to be an abandoned warehouse. Without so much as a cautionary glance around she slid through the boarded up side door.

Taking the stairs two at a time she went up the first flight to the second floor landing. There she walked down a litter-covered hall to the end. A shining metal door stood out among the filth. It was relatively new, about two inches thick and locked securely.

Taylor opened a black panel hidden on the right side of the door, typed in the key code and rested her palm on the surface of a black pad. A faint green light scanned her print.

The room was warm and a massive contrast to the building. What had appeared to be an abandoned warehouse was a front for what she sarcastically referred to as 'home'. The rest of the warehouse was abandoned and at times used for transients or druggies. Some of them knew she was here, but no one bothered her.

Two or three transients had been privy to large sums of cash to keep the more unwanted elements out. And any that stayed here with her permission were left with food or blankets. Though she would never, ever admit such a kind-hearted action.

Most believed, as Taylor did, that she had no heart left.

This part of the warehouse had been sound proofed, and though sparsely done, had a full bath, kitchen, living room and upstairs loft bedroom.

A mass of computers lined one wall of the downstairs living room. There was a large screen TV and a futon on the other side of the room.

The kitchen was fully equipped, though seldom used, and it's only furniture was a breakfast island with two stools. The upstairs bedroom had a box spring and mattress set on the floor and nothing else.

No nick knack's or soveniours littered the free spaces. No posters or pictures adorned the bare white walls. And no personal possessions except clothing and bathroom accessories sat on the plastic crates in the bedroom.

Every computer part known to man lined the far wall in the living room and littered the hall. Some had never been put on the market. Some were bought legally, some by the black market and most stolen.

Taylor tossed the packet of money down on the kitchen counter and went to the cupboard to grab a cup and plate. On her way to the living room futon she shed her hat, coat and boots, pulling the deli sandwich and unopened coke from her pockets.

On the coffee table of crates and a discarded board she laid the food, and cigarettes. With a sigh she picked up the remote and sat down to watch TV.

She skipped the news, cop and lawyer shows, doctor shows and settled on an old episode of the Thunder Cats. She had no desire to check her mail, to boot up the computers and get to work on her next assignment or do much of anything else, let alone sleep.

Sleep was avoided until she was sure she wouldn’t dream. Not dreams really, nightmares.

Two hours later the plate was clean, the coke gone, the ashtray full, the TV showing another old cartoon and finally, finally she slept.

Darkness surrounded her and angry voices cried, "Why? Why have you done this to us?"

The dream was the same as it always was. She dared not moved because the arms would grab her; she would tumble and fall and stand up bloodied.

In the darkness she couldn't see the blood but she could feel the sticky warmth and the tinny scent would invade her mouth and nose. As always she'd cry out for the voices to shut up and leave her alone. They never did and she'd awake, nauseous and sweating, shaking with fear.

This time Taylor didn't wake and the dream shifted. Her employer stood before her, shoulder length blond hair in an angry halo around her head. An angry scowl twisted her beautiful features. Rage was a hot blue coal in her eyes.

"I own you, little girl." Angel reached out her arms to pull Taylor into a tight embrace devoid of love.

"You don't own me." Taylor struggled against the arms that held her tight. No one owns me!

"Wrong." Angel's voiced turned seductive. "I own your body." She pulled roughly on Taylor's shirt, ripping the collar. "And your soul." Angel smiled savagely as she pushed Taylor to arm’s length. "I own your soul." Angel struck Taylor down to her knees.

Taylor trembled in fear and tried to rise, but was struck back down. Blood gushed from her nose and lip. "What do you want?" she cried out desperately.

"More," was the simple reply. Angel stretched down a loving hand to caress Taylor’s cheek. Suddenly her fingernails dug deep into Taylor's skin.

She cried out in pain. Angel laughed and pulled her hand back, licking her fingers in a horribly erotic way.

"More," Angel whispered insanely, laughing at the shudder that passed through the kneeling form. "More, more, moremoremoremoremoremore...."

"No! No more, Angel," Taylor yelled.

Angel titled her head strangely and looked into the distance. Taylor turned as well.

Another woman had stepped out of the darkness. Her hair was as dark as Angel's was light, trailing down to her mid back. Her eyes were a pale shade of blue. She had the classical features of an ancient Greek goddess and a trim muscular body that stood almost six feet tall. Grace and poise outlined her walk towards them.

There was something familiar...safe…about the stranger and Taylor watched her desperately.

Save me? Taylor begged silently.

"Well, well, well. Who is this?" Angel inquired with another sideways tilt of her head. "Your knight in shining armor come to rescue you, Taylor?" She smiled wickedly. "I don't think so, honey. " She addressed the stranger, "she's mine."

A deep contralto voice answered, sending tingles up Taylor's spine. "She's yours no more." The stranger bent a hand down to the kneeling woman. "Come on. There are things to do."

Things to do? Taylor reached up a hand to grasp the slim tapered fingers. Her own fingers slid right through them. With a gasp she drew back and looked up at the stranger.

"Who are you?" Taylor whispered, not noticing Angel slowly approaching.

The stranger's blue eyes were sad. "A friend." Her beautiful form shimmered with light and she looked at something no one else could see. "It's time for me to go."

"Wait!" Taylor shouted as the image began to disappear. "I want to go with you!"

"You aren't ready," the stranger said sadly and looked at Angel.

Angel grabbed Taylor's arm and pulled her roughly away from the stranger, possessing her employee with a strong hand.

"I'm ready." Tears fell from Taylor's eyes. She reached up a startled hand to brush them away. Tears? My god, I haven't cried in over six years.

The dark stranger looked pointedly at Angel. "You are not ready." Suddenly she was gone.

Angel dug her fingers into Taylor's arm triumphantly. "See, I own you!"

"No!" Taylor woke suddenly, fear choking her. The afternoon sun from the skylights brought tears to her eyes. The dream was fading. The stranger was gone.

Angel owned her, body and soul.

Sweat soaked Taylor's body and her hands trembled as she lit a cigarette. The sickly taste of blood was stuck in the back of her throat. She went to the kitchen sink and drank directly from the faucet. Then she returned to the futon and sat stiffly on the edge as she used the first cigarette to light the next. She snuffed out the butt of the first one as she inhaled deeply from the second.

Angel owns me. The unpleasant thought echoed through her head. Arctic blue eyes flashed before her and she sat back startled. I know you, her mind and body screamed. Why can't I remember?

She had to clear her mind and focus on something else, so she went to the opposite wall and booted up two of the computers.

For a minute she sat staring at the screen as it warmed up. The log on screen appeared and she typed the ten-digit password.

Fuck. She forcefully pushed the image of saddened eyes out of her mind and retyped the password.

"Access granted. Good morning, Taylor, what would you like to do today?"

"Access project: T-167." Taylor turned the computer chair to the laptop screen as the computer pulled up the file. She typed in another password, got the Win98 screen and connected to the Internet. The modem whirled and dialed.

"Project T-167: opened. Status: unfinished. Do you wish to update?"

"Yes," Taylor voiced the command as she opened the WWW on the other computer. "Project: Finished. Command: Shut down. Payment made. Password: Angel."

Taylor paused a moment.

"Thank you, Taylor. Confirm?"

"Not yet." Taylor turned her attention to the desktop computer. "Command: Uplink. Remote FTP server 102.350.34.568. Transfer data files T-2 through T-167."

Taylor turned her attention to the laptop and just stared at the Yahoo search screen she’d pulled up a minute ago.

"Shut down and transfer confirmed. Mail: five messages, two urgent."

Her regular e-mail contained today's news, a Microsoft update for only $99.95, and a Barnes and Noble request to see their sight and buy something. She ditched the annoying junk mail. "Read: Urgent."

"Reply to G.A. Transfer as requested. Attach File T-130." She opened the next e-mail, pleasantly surprised to find someone had read one of her web documents and enjoyed it. "Summarize mail," she commanded as she read.

She listened with half an ear. None of the messages were important. Taylor re-read the e-mail from the stranger.

Dear T88jvr,

I just finished reading your story "Scream of the Red Day" and I had to E-mail you and tell you I enjoyed it. It touched my heart where I thought I could no longer feel anything. You've really opened my eyes.

The character was deep and emotional. The setting’s believable. I felt I was really there as I experienced the character's pain.

I do hope you continue writing it because I'll be checking back often to see the ending.

Sincerely,dg2000 (Darion Grange)

Taylor read it again. People had e-mailed her about the story before. Usually one liners about how good it was or how emotionally charged it was. But this person had admitted it touched her heart and awoken something in her she'd felt she'd lost.

Is it a he or she? Doesn't really matter, Taylor surmised. I think I'll answer this one.

dg2000,

Taylor typed it manually. She'd left out the voice command on the laptop. It held no real work and was more of a play machine then anything else. The gamestick attested to that, as well as all the game CD's piled next it.

The story has no ending yet.

It was from dg2000@aol.com.

Dear T88jvr,

I only have a minute before I go to work. I don't know why I'm e-mailing you again, but I felt the need to. Weird, huh? Well that's all right, I've been called worse things. :)Anyway, I wanted to add to the previous e-mail. I'm sure you are a very busy person so there is no need to send a reply.Sincerely,dg2000

dg2000,

She turned to the opposite computer, with it's cursor blinking. It was silent, waiting for a command. "Command: Open new file." The computer responded by opening the project container. A fact sheet opened, blank and fresh. Sigh, where to begin.

"File opened. Request data."

Taylor's stomach growled. "Pause," she requested and padded into the kitchen. She fixed a bowl of Lucky Charms and sat sullenly on the futon. "Computer resume." Resignedly she set about relaying the facts from the envelope. Her memory didn't fail her. It never did....

She paced around the floor as she talked, scuffing her shoes, impatient to be done. "Command: Done. File save: T-320. Command: Encrypt."

"Yes."

"Status: file encrypted. Saved: T-320 at 10:36AM EST."

"Computer, power down." Taylor changed her mind abruptly. "Abort command. Terminate files T-2 through T-167."

"Command confirm: Terminate. Password: screaming." Taylor settled back in the chair, elbows resting on the surface of the table. The E-mail icon was blinking on the laptop.

"Command: Shutdown," Taylor instructed and settled comfortably into the chair and hit the ‘read’ command on the laptop.

"Confirm shutdown," Taylor replied absently, a small smile gathering on her face as she read the message from dg2000.

Dear T88jvr,I was just about to disconnect when your e-mail came across. I'm glad you replied even though I said you didn't have to.

So, the story is true then? I thought maybe it was. It feels real. Um, I don't know what I'm talking about. :)Anyway, now I'm late for work. Would it be alright if I sent you a longer E-mail when I return? Maybe we can talk more?

Sincerely,

dg2000

Taylor immediately hit ‘reply.’

dg2000,Yes, the story is real. I have no idea why I admitted it, but it's true... I don't know when you get out of work but I've got a long day ahead of me so...

dg2000,

I have work too, e-mail you later...

T88jvr

Taylor needed to diffuse the sudden overwhelming rage. First loneliness, now rage? I'm falling apart. On the flight out she grabbed her cigarettes and the packet of money from the kitchen counter.

Late afternoon crowds littered the sidewalks as Taylor entered downtown. The snow had been plowed aside, mostly melted in the sun's glare.

Where? Where? Where? Sad blue eyes haunted her. There's Sandy's Bar and Grill. Mmmm, lunch time, early happy hour. She ordered the club sandwich and a beer. No one bothered with id. She bypassed the meal and gulped the beer. Then ordered another, and another.

There was a couple in the corner, laughing and smiling.

Abruptly Taylor left, laying some bills down as she went.

Where? Where? Where? Who cares? Emptiness echoes. Three beers, need more. Another place, more beers, a shot or two of whiskey. A lighter step as she exited. Need something more.

Warmth. She wandered in a haze to the seediest part of town where people don't just live, they exist. A transient here and there; a hooker, a pimp, drug dealers.

Taylor didn’t look out of place in torn, faded jeans and a hooded sweatshirt beneath her worn leather jacket.

She wandered down a side street to another part of town and stopped at a liquor store to buy a bottle of whiskey.

Staggering now, leaning on the wall, watching. There.She took the hand offered and the opportunity to loose herself in pure, mindless sex. There was a nondescript room and she laid money on the counter.

Nothing mattered but warm, naked flesh and alcohol.A body squirmed, screaming beneath her. Lies, all of it lies. The stale scent of sex already on the woman. Don't care, just need a release. Changing positions, floating on sensations. Nothingness, empty.

Lies. Alcohol. Sex. More money on the table. 'Thanks, baby.'

The door closed and Taylor was back on the streets, staggering to the alley, narrowly missing her shoes as her stomach churned. She fell to her knees, retching again and swayed into the littered concrete.

Taylor passed out.

Sweet nothingness. Darkness.   

Ahhhhh, fuck! She threw up in the trash again, trying to stand. Her legs wobbled and collapsed beneath her. How much did I drink? What did I do? There was still a considerable sum of money in her pockets, an empty whisky bottle in her hands, and the stale sweaty smell of street sex. I can't believe...no!

It was now dark. How much time had passed? Where am I? I swore I'd never do this again. And look at me! Back where I began. Well, not entirely. Then I'd been the one picking the money off the table and telling some asshole they were the best lay I’d had in weeks.

Taylor shuddered and stood. This time she was able to hold the nausea in check. Her head throbbed and her body ached.

On the long walk home she berated herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid fuck! The dark stretch limo didn't register in her peripheral vision until it pulled up directly beside her.

"Get in," Angel demanded.

"You look terrible," Angel commented as Taylor slid into the leather seats with a sigh. "Smell bad too. Spend the night in a dumpster or something, lover?"

Go to hell. "No."

"Nevermind. I want an update."

Update? What? Oh shit, the new file. "I'm working on it," Taylor answered evasively.

"Uh, huh." Angel wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That's why you smell like a drunken whore?"

"Must be." This time the slap got beyond Taylor’s inebriated senses and shoved her against the door.

"Get out. I want it completed by tomorrow." The limo screeched to a halt. The door popped open and Taylor fell onto the sidewalk. Her feet were barely out the door when the limo took off again.

Taylor returned to the warehouse, not giving a damn about the new file. She shed her clothes on the way to the bathroom. After she filled the tub with hot steaming water she sank into it and into oblivion.

The stranger came in the dream again. Only this time they were alone, on a white capped mountain. It wasn't cold and the wind seemed to blow right around them.

The blue eyes looked sadly into hers.

"Please don't be sad," Taylor begged. "I want to go with you, really I do."

"I know." The dark haired stranger held out her hand and grasped Taylor's firmly. The long, tapered fingers engulfed Taylor’s hand completely. "But you're not ready."

"Yes, I am," Taylor argued. What do I have to do? What more can I do? "I'm ready, take me with you."

The stranger brought up her other hand and gently caressed Taylor's cheek. She leaned into the touch, craving more.

"Not yet. There's something you have to do."

"What? I'll do anything." The warm hand left her face. Taylor looked up with tears in her eyes. "Anything," she whispered.

"Then, wake up."

She'd slipped down into the cool water. Choking and gagging she woke.

Damn. She pulled the plug and stepped out of the tub. On the cold tile she stood shaking, sad and lost. Water dripped down the curves of her naked body, forming puddles on the floor. A cold tremor shook her entire body and she finally reached for the towel.

Mechanically Taylor moved up the stairs and dressed, returned to the living room and sat on the futon, TV remote in hand.

She didn't turn the TV on and instead lay almost comatose, staring at the ceiling, thoughts chaotic in her mind. Do I really want out? Now? After all this time? I can see that day, clearly in my mind, as if it was yesterday. Street cold and dirty, like today... a limo, with the beautiful stranger, extra money on the table, some food that night...

Then again, and somehow the woman, Angel, was telling her to stay, buying her clothes and food. Taylor didn't care, as long as her belly was full and her fingers were warm.

Angel had found her talent with computers, had used it to her advantage. Angel kept Taylor well cared for, until she grew tired of her. Taylor hadn't expected anything or hoped for anything. But it still hurt to find another woman in her place. How many times had it happened before?

Taylor had found her own place to stay, here at the warehouse, but was still employed with Angel, doing things she'd never imagined she'd do in her entire life.

Abruptly the memories shifted to a time before Angel. To darkness and fear. Worse then the streets. There had been a room, Taylor remembered, with an old chest. It stood empty, until her mother had gotten angry. Then the smell of must and mold would fill her nostrils and the darkness held her still and small.

"Stop it," Taylor hissed out loud, shaking the memories off like water. She shuddered and rose from the futon, trying physically to dislodge the pain.

The computers taunted her from the far wall, dark screens like dead eyes following her every move. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she was seconds away from smashing them with her bare hands, when she spied the laptop.

Did she send anything? The inane thought captured her anger and caged it, for the moment. She? I don't know it's a she. Taylor paced over to the laptop and back again. Ok, ok... find out.

She powered up the laptop, ignoring the project computer beside it, knowing she had work to do. Knowing there would consequences.

The e-mail icon was blinking.

Woowhoo! Don't get your hopes up. But there it was. A message, and a long one. Taylor ignored the other e-mails and clicked on the one from dg2000.

Dear T88jvr,

Well, I just got back from work. It's been a long day. How about you? There's very little personal info on your site. I was wondering about you all day long. :)

I hope your day wasn't as bad as mine. There was a murder on the westside today. It was gruesome. I'm sure you don't want to hear anything about that, so why don't I tell you a little bit about me. A little personal information about the woman bombarding you with e-mail. :) I hope I'm not bothering you. If I am just tell me to bugger off and I will.You might have assumed I'm a cop, otherwise why would I be talking about murder? Course, I could just be some sicko, but honestly I'm not. Hehehe, honest. You can just ask the body in the closet if you don't believe me.Sorry, I have a sick sense of humor. Which, btw, my friends love. I don't know what else to tell about myself. I'm not all that exciting. So, tell me about yourself, unless you don't really want to. That would defeat the purpose of this e-mail, getting to know you. (Insert song here. "Getting to know you, getting to know all about you...") See, there's that humor again. I hope you're at least smiling or I'll feel really foolish. :)

I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Darion

Taylor was in fact smiling by the time she finished reading. It didn't matter that Darion was a woman. It mattered that someone had been thinking about her all day. That someone wanted to know if she'd had a good day.

Her eyes briefly clouded over as thoughts of her shitty day returned.

It's just an e-mail, a little voice chided, no one cares. No one ever did or ever will.

Yeah, but so what if it’s just an email? Another voice asked. And so what if no one cares? That never mattered before.

Well, maybe it does matter, a soft voice reasoned.

Nothing matters! Now shut up, Taylor’s own voice asserted itself and even though she had no idea why it DID matter she hit the ‘reply’ button and began to type.

Darion,

My day was not a pleasant one.

A crush? Her mind crashed over that fact and sent her spiraling downward. Whoa... stop there! None of that. She signed her name this time and hit send. Then she opened the WWW and surfed around for nothing specific, just passing the time.

Ten minutes later she had an incoming e-mail. With a startled blink she switched over to the mail program and downloaded the message.

It was from Darion.

Dear Taylor,

Pleased to meet you. :) I'm sorry your day was bad. I hope things are looking up?Darion

And I am ashes, I am precious, could I be your girl? Could I be your girl? I am ashes, I am Jesus, I am precious. Could I be your girl? Could I be your girl…. And I am worthless sounds compared to all your perfect words, could I be your girl? Could I be your girl?

I love that song. I am worthless sounds... if you only knew... Taylor's smile faded. She'd never be anybody's girl. No one would want me if they knew me... There were those damn tears threatening. Geezus, two times in as many days? And not once in the six years prior?

Darion,

Have you heard of IRC... we could talk that way while I work.

Taylor

Taylor,

I'm on IRC right now. My nick is dg2000. Yeah, yeah, real original, I know. See ya there??Darion

Taylor didn't bother to reply. Instead she booted up IRC and hopped on both DALnet and UNDERnet to see if dg2000 was there. Time to meet her... hmmm, interesting choice of channel here... #lesbianangels... let's go check it out... what nick should I use?

She joined #lesbianangels, using the nick T88.

Join T88 [~no1@host-209-214-128-191] has joined #lesbianangels

Join madison3[~madison@203.719.183.23] has joined #lesbianangels

Part foster1[foster@host.canada.net] from #lesbianangels

dg2000 acts innocent and says "What question?"

Waiting for DCC Session to be established...

DCC Session established with 209.214.128.191

The phone rang, startling Taylor out of her silent communication with Darion. brb... phone, she typed. As she answered the phone a sudden dread welled up inside her chest.

"Taylor, darrrrllling," Angel drawled into the phone, "I haven't interrupted anything important, have I?"

Be careful how you answer that. "I'm working on it now, Angel."

"Well, good. I need to see you tonight."

Not a request, a demand, Taylor noted with anger. "I'm busy," Taylor replied curtly.

"Yes. You're always busy these days. Aren't you, darling?"

Oh no, the pet names. Now she's pissed. Just great... "You have me working hard, Angel." She tried to keep her voice normal, even though the fear was setting in.

The chat light on IRC was blinking.

"Then it's time for a little r&r, darling."

Taylor could almost hear Angel licking her lips and smiling that seductive smile. "I'm too busy with the new 'software,' Angel." Taylor held her breath.

"Pity." Angel inhaled deeply. "Meet me tomorrow," and she hung up before Taylor could reply.

Dammit, Taylor cursed. With shaking hands she fumbled for a cigarette and lighter. After inhaling deeply she turned to the laptop where Darion was waiting.

How easy it would be to say no, Taylor shook. Too easy...

DCC Session Closed

After the new 'software' was complete Taylor hooked up through twenty or so different interfaces across the world and piggy backed onto an employee's logon. She then integrated the new ‘software’ into the company's mainframe. The 'software' was really a virus in disguise. When run it would crash the entire system.

Taylor was not proud of her work this time. Something subtle had changed. Was it for the best? Or would it be her undoing?

Regardless she sent a message to Angel telling her the package was complete and that by the company's opening in the morning all their work would be lost.

Long ago Taylor had accepted the consequences of her actions, but even before that she didn't care. Or rather, had learned NOT to care. Her first job had been to shut down a Cancer research lab.

It had never been love for either Angel or Taylor. Lust, and power for the blond she-demon. Longing and loneliness for Taylor's tortured soul. Mostly it worked out. Each got what they wanted from the other, till the blond woman grew tired of the game and moved on.

Why Angel let Taylor live when she was finished with her was a bit of a mystery. Taylor and some of Angel's more trusted goons assumed that the power play was Angel's favorite game and since she still held Taylor in her power and Taylor responded to every whim and errand Angel kept her for that reason. Or perhaps it was because of Taylor's invaluable knowledge of computers and technology in general. She was a very useful tool in Angel's quest for ultimate, unrivaled power. Which, in itself, was highly dangerous. Angel was not known for keeping associates on any longer then they warmed her bed. Once the sheets were cooled an unidentifiable body usually turned up somewhere.

What was that quaint saying? 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.'

Taylor knew that the body found on the eastside had been one of Angel's 'associates.'

With a full body shake Taylor rose from the computer chair and crossed the large room to pick up the TV remote. For two hours she channel surfed and power smoked to the point of oblivion.

Her unconscious mind knew she was becoming a loose end in Angel's book. Her work had become sporadic and careless. Once Angel discovered her other projects there was no doubt in the computer hacker’s mind that she would be the next cold body found.   

Almost comatose on the futon the hacker's thoughts were unfocused and chaotic to the point of mind numbing. The slip into sleep was unrecognizable and slow. It was as if she was still awake and could sense the futon under her body, the TV's obnoxious newscaster, and the disjointed whirling of the overhead fan.

It didn't surprise her then to see the stunning blue eyes of the woman from her dreams, or feel the depression her body made as she sat next to Taylor. The familiar voice floated to her ears, as if from far away.

"Taylor?" A soft, long fingered hand caressed her face and tucked errant strands of gold hair behind small, lovely ears.

"This life has not treated you well, little one. Something happened and we crossed paths. You were meant for other, greater things. I was meant for this pain. My pain. The pain that I carry with me each lifetime, trying to amend for centuries of blood and death.

"This is new, something I don't know how to fix. Your dreamscape was my only way of reaching you, till now. But even as the dreams start they fade and you remember only pieces when you awake. Along the way we were cursed, never to share love again, but we were given a chance to break the cycle by having the chance to meet. In this lifetime, or the next. So many times we've been close enough to touch, and feel and love again, just to be thrown apart.

"We have a chance now, Taylor... please remember... please... you were always the strong one. You have her in there with you, her strength... "

Taylor was silent as the woman talked, her thoughts in turmoil, fear so close to the surface that it was pulling her from sleep.

"Who are you?" the words were whispered hoarsely. Had the beautiful women heard?

"I am the other half of your soul. As you are mine. We are not complete without the other."

Something was pulling her, tugging her from sleep. The ringing of the phone. As Taylor's eyes struggled open words floated through her brain in a fog of familiarity. "Please, remember... remember."

Shaking, Taylor sat, ignoring the phone, trying to remember something. But what? What was so important that it made her heart ache and her breath painful in her chest? 

Idly Taylor tapped her fingers on the keyboard. The cursor blinked impatiently. Slowly she came to a decision and her fingertips were no longer idle over the keys. She worked furiously and thoroughly to get the campus files back up and readable. Taylor gave no conscious thought as to why she was doing it, just that she knew it was right. And she owed the blue eyed woman this much.

It was 3am before she was satisfied with the results and the fact that it couldn't be traced back to her. The campus had lousy computer security and with a click here and a command there she put in some much needed firewalls, a more secure password logon, and a hidden program that would alert the computer techs when an unauthorized logon was detected.

Amateur hackers would have a hell of a time getting in, but for someone like Taylor there was always a back door, no matter how much security. It was the best she could do for the college without actually talking to the techs and going in there and manually changing their whole system. A small well of pride gathered in her chest.

With a strange twist of irony she wandered through some files and easily hacked into the Brooklyn police department’s mainframe.

With a self-deprecating smile and a healthy dollop of guilt Taylor did a search for Darion Grange and in a matter of minutes pulled up the detective's file.

When Darion came back she went back with the local police. Why not rejoin the FBI?

Picture, a ha... The picture loaded, agonizingly slow. First, the top of her head, strands of dark black hair, strong forehead, dark eyebrows... highlighting the most gorgeous blue eyes... blue, pale, familiar... oh my...

The dreams hit her with startling clarity then. A grainy, required police photo superimposed itself over the image of her knight in shining armor. A perfect match.

Taylor leapt from the chair, as if burned. Holy... oh my... no way... can't be... can't be... but it was, is her.

Tears clouded Taylor’s eyes and with trembling fingers she switched the computer off. She reached for the ever present pack of cigarettes, only to find the pack empty. A quick search told her there were none stashed around the room or the rest of the place.

Restless feet carried her numbed body from the apartment, down the rusted stairs and into the biting cold. The sting of the harsh wind helped to clear the fog from her brain, but not by much. She stumbled a few block's to the BP. Once there she forget the reason she'd gone out and wandered up and down the isles.

Junk food, canned food, snacks, and pastries passed by unfocused eyes. Absently she retrieved a bag of M&M's, a Pepsi and headed to the register. Her eyes came to rest on the stacks of cigarettes and finally she remembered.

She asked for a carton of Marlboro's and handed over the money. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Without conscious thought, reacting instinctively to danger, Taylor ducked out of the way of the revolver and sank to her knees.

She felt the brush of the man's thighs on her arm as she went to the ground, heard the startled grunt, and wrapped her arms around his calves. With a curse he tumbled backward. The gun flew up and out of his hand as he landed on his back on the gritty gas station floor.

Taylor had time to focus on the robber as he fought to gain back the breath she'd forced from his lungs. He was easily a good two feet taller then she was, burly and well muscled. There was no time to be afraid as he lumbered ungracefully to his feet. Instinct took over and she sent a powerful kick to his groin.

He doubled over. With skills she never knew she possessed she landed a hard jab to the side of his neck, sending him to unconsciousness and once again to the dirty floor.

Adrenaline soared through her body. She had to reel in her urge to strike at anything nearby when the young attendant came crashing from behind the counter to stand terrified next to her.

"Are you all right? My God, I didn't even see him coming. How did you know? How did you do that?" the boy rambled.

Taylor held up a hand to silence him. "Call the police and an ambulance." As he hesitated Taylor lightly chucked his shoulder and turned him back to the counter. "Call them now, before he wakes up."

That got the young man moving quickly. For a moment Taylor stood looking at the big man on the floor. The adrenaline rush crashed down around her ears and knocked her knees together as it left.

She grabbed the carton of Marlboro's, ripped it open, tore through the wrapper on a pack and lit up, right there in the store. I should really get out of here, but the sirens were already approaching as she was finishing off her second cigarette.

Taylor stomped out the butt and prepared herself for the tedious hours to come.   

It was past 8am when all the forms were finally done and she was allowed to leave. The weak winter sun was barely peaking over the city lines, bathing the streets and sidewalks in an eerie glow.

Taylor lit a cigarette as she sat on the curb. There was money in her pocket for the bus, of course, but she still had to meet Angel. THAT she was not looking forward to. What if I just disappear?

She'll find you... a terrified voice cried.

The blaring bass of a dark tinted car startled her back to the present. With a resigned sigh she stood, and made her way down the sidewalk. Head bent in sorrow, she missed the black Jeep and it's blue eyed occupant. 

Angel wasn't at her office, her 'back' office OR home. There was the slim chance Taylor's ruthless employer was at the docks, but it'd been a long, long time since Angel had been anywhere near the 'dirty work' end of business.

So, that left one place... the Club. It was better known as Wide Open, one of the more popular Lesbian bars, a few blocks down from Meow Mix.

Taylor hailed a cab, gave the directions, and sat back for the ride. Good thing about cabbies, if they knew where you were headed they either didn't care or knew enough not to say a word.

Since it was only going on about 10am the bar was closed. After she paid the cabby she passed through the alley and approached the side entrance. The door was slightly open.

Taylor hesitated before laying a hand against the warped wood. No light poured outside, and no sounds came from within.

Oh God, have I become a loose end already? As Taylor pushed open the door she half expected to hear the click of a hammer. This is stupid. This is what they do in the movies- go inside when they know they shouldn't and get killed!

She was about to take a step back when a low voice echoed across the darkness.

"Shut the door."

Not, ‘shut-the-door-I-need-to-kill-you-now’, but a ‘shut-the-door-I-NEED-you-now’...

A zippo flicked and burst into life. Momentary shadows raced across the room and then the light died and was replaced by a soft glow and the smell of warm vanilla.

Two more candles were lit, then three and four. Soon the bar was bathed in the soft, romantic flames of ten sickly smelling candles. Tables had been pushed aside to make room for a blanket and pillows. In the center was Angel, reclining on her elbows in nothing more then black lace panties.

"I knew you'd find me, lover." Angel’s voice was low, sultry. A thin, manicured finger crooked in Taylor’s direction. Beckoning... time for games, mind numbing, animal sex...

No! "You said you needed to talk to me, Angel. What's up?" Taylor made no move to join the half-naked woman on the floor.

"I said I needed you... not needed to talk to you... Come here."

"I've got other things to do." The words slipped out of Taylor’s mouth before she could censor them. Oops.

"Other things? Or other women to do, darrling?" Venom dripped from the archangel's fangs. She crawled forward on her hands and knees to the edge of the blanket. Angel was within arms reach.

Taylor gulped convulsively. Goddamn…. "Of course not. I've got to ship some hardware out to Bengal and fix a bug." Taylor's eye twitched with the lie.

"Darrling, if that's all, I can have a runner ship out the hardware. You can fix the bug... after." Angel ran her hands up Taylor’s thighs and caught her thumbs in the belt loops of her pants.

Fuck, fuck, fuck... just run. Get the hell outta Dodge. "I'm on a deadline."

"It. Can. WAIT." A commanding hiss, not to be disobeyed, was followed by Angel’s teeth tugging at the button on Taylor’s Levi’s.

"No, it can't wait. Dren wants the bug fixed now. Or he finds another 'company' to do business with," Taylor moved away from the teasing teeth even as heat traveled across her belly and curled around the inside of her thighs.

Angel still held Taylor’s belt loops, but she was effectively sidetracked. "Fine. Go fix your little bug." She released Taylor with a small shove that sent her skittering backwards.

Too easy, the hacker thought, as she nearly ran out of the club and once again entered the alley and flagged down a cab. I'm going to pay for that, sooner or later.   

The wristwatch of the woman standing beside Taylor in the coffee shop read 12:15. Returning to the empty, lifeless warehouse was not an option right now. Taylor needed the noise and everyday hubbub of city life.

Businessmen and women occupied most of the little tables. All dressed in power suits, out for power lunches in groups of two and three.

If she'd been born into a different family, different city, would anything be different?

One woman in particular caught her attention. She was seated by the window overlooking the sidewalk. Dark hair slipped around her shoulders as she talked animatedly with her hands. The woman looked so... normal, sitting there talking to the man in the dark, pin striped suit. Was he an associate, boss, lover, husband? She wore a wedding band, he did not.

Occasionally she touched his shoulder, or his thigh. He smiled and laughed at what she said. Was he interested in her, or her body? Did her opinion matter?

Taylor watched for a long time as they sipped those silly coffees and ate the little biscuits. The woman batted her eyelashes, touched him, laughed at his jokes, swished her hair back, and displayed her assets teasingly.

He's definitely not her husband... maybe a lover. That they worked together was obvious as they reviewed a file folder with a dark blue insignia. She seemed so together, so happy.

Taylor wouldn't have been shocked to know that the businesswoman was nothing like she appeared. No one ever was. Ruthless in her career, she had no time for her husband, and didn't want children. She was having an affair with the man at the table, to get promoted. She was filled with anger because she'd hit the 'glass ceiling' and sex with this man was a joke. He couldn't keep it up for more then five minutes. Nor was he about to give her a promotion.

The hacker was strangely disappointed when they left. She sighed, pushed the cold coffee away, and headed back to the busy sidewalks.

It was blustery cold, numbing her ears and nose. There was one place she felt she had to go. The elevator was relatively empty, as was the observation deck. Only foolhardy tourists were roaming around picture taking.

Taylor made her way around the deck, to her usual spot, not looking down on the city until she'd twined her fingers around the rail and pushed her forehead against the cold metal bars.

The park stretched out below her, one of the only green spots in the city. But she didn't see it. Instead the image of blue eyes haunted her. The file was wrong, that's all there was to it. How could they be the same person?

"Stupid, stupid, child," her mother’s voice rang in her ears. "You are just too stupid to matter. I don’t want to see or hear you."

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I am not stupid! Taylor’s fingers gripped the cold metal tighter. "I am not stupid," she whispered painfully.

"I-" she slammed her fist into the concrete wall, "am not-" she turned wild eyes over the observation deck, "stupid!"

Curious and suddenly frightened eyes turned to the disheveled young woman. One young man poised his camera. Wild red-blond hair whipped around wide hazel eyes and open mouth.

He clicked, forever immortalizing the young woman as she screamed at the darkness. He would go on to develop the film. The girl with the savage look would haunt him till he entered the picture into Photography Magazine.

She would be known as ‘Screaming Fury’, displayed as the first prizewinner.

After her race down the stairs and back to the lobby Taylor once again turned to the streets. But where to go and what to do now? Fury still burned like a red hot coal in her battered soul.

I can’t take this anymore, she shook as she entered the subway and waited in line to buy a fifty-cent token.

The hacker noticed the tail as she went through the turnstile and turned down the subway platform. She leaned against a pillar as she waited for the train, noticing him out of the corner of her eye.

Taylor would have laughed, except for the danger dancing around the whole concept. Angel had never tailed her before.

Angel had called Dren. Checked up on her, and found out she was lying. I brushed her off, twice. What the fuck did I expect, red roses on my doorstep?

Loose the tail, her unpanicked, rational side finally took over as she stepped into the train. Taylor hurried through the throng of lunch hour traffic, hoping to loose the man in the mass of bodies. No such luck. He was half a car behind her as she made her way to the front.

Fuck... oh looky here... A group of Marilyn Manson wannabe's were blocking the entrance to the next car. This... could get interesting.

Politely she made her through the dark, painted people. And stopped. The tail stopped and turned as if he wasn't following the hacker.

Yeah, right.

Taylor bumped her arm into the elbow of the young man beside her. "Oh, excuse me. I'm sorry."

"S'ok," he mumbled. His eyes were glazed, stance unsteady.

"Hey," Taylor leaned into his shoulder, "see that dude over there?" Fuck, hope he's not too stoned.

"Yo, which dude?" His words were a little slurred, but his mind, what there was of it, seemed intact.

"The guy in the suit. Ya know, I seen him watchin' you."

"What the fuck?" the boy muttered.

One of his buddies stepped over. "What's up?"

"That guy's watchin’ you. See him?" Taylor titled her head, motioning with her eyes. "Bet he's some kinda pervert. Look, he's actin' all innocent like."

The young boy and his friend looked closely now. Taylor could almost see the gears in their heads turning.

"Yeah, like he's lookin' over here, pretendin' he ain't." The second boy slugged a third in the shoulder. "Yo, look at the mother fucker over there, man."

Three eyes turned to the tail. He was nervously looking at the floor, over Taylor's head and back.

"I'd be like really careful, man. I saw on the news this perve who like stalked the subways, lookin’ for boys," Taylor said in all seriousness. It was true, over in the Bronx. But, well... "He follows 'em home. Then fucks around with 'em and gets off when he cuts off their balls." Ok, so that part was totally fucked up. In for a dollar...

The train was slowing down for the next stop.

"Yo," the younger of the two said, "that's really fucked up. Someone should fuck him up." Another boy and the two girls in the group were now listening.

Taylor's back was against the door. The train stopped and she made her move through the door into the next train. The tail tried to follow but was blocked by a group of disgusted, stoned Marilyn Manson wannabe's.

My job here is done! Taylor exited the train, jogged down the walkway and took the stairs to the surface two at a time.   

If Angel is tailing me, it's not safe to go to the warehouse. Taylor was wondering down the streets, going in the front door of businesses and out the back door, leaving nothing to chance.

Something was nagging at her, something obvious. So obvious that it was completely overlooked. The blond hacker entered a Cyber Cafe, intent on using the back door. She stopped, mid stride, two feet from a laptop. Someone was using it but there was an older computer against the back wall that was unused.

"Can I help you?"

Startled, Taylor turned to the person who'd spoken. He looked to be in his early twenties, boyishly cute, and held a platter that read 'Cyber or Nothing.'

She smiled up at him. "I'd like to use that computer over there, please."

"Sure," he smiled back. "Come with me." The waiter lead her to the counter where he stepped behind a computer. "How much time do you want to purchase?"

Umm. Hell, I have no clue. The clock behind the counter read 4:36 pm in green neon light. An hour an a half. "How about three hours?"

"Done." He tapped on the keyboard and a few minutes later issued her a pass. He explained it would only allow her to access the computer for three hours. After that she had to buy more time. Taylor just smiled and walked over to the computer.

5:30 came and went, painfully slow. At 5:45 she lurked on IRC, waiting for Darion to get home from work and log on to her computer. It was after 6:15 when dg2000 blinked up on her notify list.

Waiting for DCC Session to be established...

DCC Session established with 209.214.128.191

DCC Session Closed

Taylor's mind ran in circles. She was terrified, elated and terrified all over again. I'm going to meet her. Oh fuck, I shouldn't do this. Angel's after me and I'm going to meet Darion. Have I gotten into yet another mess? How fucked up am I?

Taylor shook as she left the Cyber Cafe and hailed a cab.

The weak winter sun was setting and the wind was whipping faster and colder. Taylor had to yell over the country music twice before the cabby pulled up to the curb. She didn't bother to tip him.

Night was upon the city. It wasn't full night, or even late, but the sidewalks were a mass of people returning home or going on the next shift. In less then an hour the streets would clear out in favor of warmer places and the hacker would be easy pickens.

She slipped into the shadowed alley across from Joey's and waited. There were no tails, none that she could see anyway, so she dodged rush hour traffic and headed into Joey's with the vague notion that she must look like shit and needed a bathroom mirror.

Useless, I need a comb. And a fucking makeover. Darion will take one look at me and run the other way. Disgusted, she left the bathroom and asked for a table in back, saying she'd wait for her friend before ordering.

Joey's was famous for down home Italian cooking. The tabletops were clothed in red checkers, candles and wine bottles with roses. The diner was little, the portions big, the waiters friendly and the place was getting packed. It was warm and cheery, a massive contrast to the shaking, disheveled hacker at the back table.

Taylor’s nerves were shot from waiting. Where is she? 

At that moment Darion Grange was exiting the parking garage, looking- feeling- like a teenager on her first date. Her pale blue eyes glimmered in the streetlights and the soft leather of her bomber jacket highlighted her naturally tanned skin.

The dark haired cop walked with a light, expectant step. Men and women alike rubbernecked as she walked by, lustful, awed and/or jealous. She barely noticed. As a woman cop she was use to a lot of unwanted and mostly negative attention.

The biting wind pushed Darion down the sidewalk to Joey's diner. Suddenly she was nervous and wanted nothing more to turn and run, but with a sweaty hand she grasped the door and entered. 

Taylor saw Darion first and time seemed to slow as she stood from the chair and waved the cop over. The hacker watched as the woman walked gracefully through the crowd. Her stride was long and purposeful and her eyes seemed to take in everything while her face revealed nothing.

Those eyes held Taylor riveted, lost and drowning. They were one and the same. I know you...

Darion's unexpected smile lit up her face and poured down to the blond woman standing a few feet in front of her.

"Darion?" Taylor found her voice.

"Only if you're Taylor."

That smile again and Taylor was sliding in a heap onto her chair. For a moment she forget who Taylor was and strangled a sob rising in her throat at the thought that Darion was here for Taylor and not a stupid, low-life computer hacker in deep, deep shit. "I'm Taylor," she managed, a heartbeat later.

Darion extended a leather-clad arm. "It's good to meet you." After formally shaking hands Darion removed her jacket and sat, stretching out long, Jean clad legs.

"Uh, yeah. I didn't expect to meet you... so soon." Duh! Find a brain and fast... can we sound any less intelligent? Stupid…

"Did you order yet?"

"No. I was waiting for you." Taylor said it shyly. I’ve been waiting long enough already. Huh?

Darion motioned a waiter over who retrieved two menus and said he'd be back in just a minute. An awkward silence fell and both women intently studied their menus, taking unobtrusive glances at each other.

Taylor glanced up for about the tenth time, having given up on her menu, and sank into blue eyes.

"Are you ready to order?" Darion asked softly. She's gorgeous. Long golden hair... candlelight giving it fiery highlights... sea green eyes that have seen a lifetime and more...

"Yeah, thought I'd get the spaghetti and meatballs," Taylor grinned.

God, she's even more beautiful when she smiles. "Lasagna, I think. You up for a glass of wine?"

"Sure, but I'm really more of a Pepsi gal."

"Beer for me, but I think it's customary to have red wine at Italian restaurants. All the mob bosses do it on TV," Darion joked.

"Hmmm. They do in real life too. He is." Taylor bent her head in the direction of Tony Finelli who was surrounded by classic goons.

Darion narrowed her eyes. "Associated with the mob, are we Miss Taylor?" One eyebrow rose into her hairline and a slight smile curved her lips.

"I should be so lucky." Unconsciously Taylor sighed.

Darion's other eyebrow rocketed up under her bangs and her smile faded. You are in trouble, aren't you? Darion felt an unexplainable protective surge for the young woman. "Ar-""Are you ladies ready to order?" the waiter interrupted, giving Taylor the chance to pull herself together and smile up at the middle aged man.

The rest of the evening was filled with chitchat, food, wine and a comfortable, easy companionship.

They talked about everything and yet nothing, careful to avoid anything too serious. 

"I think I had too much wine," Taylor admitted ruefully as they stood out in the night cold, debating whether to say good-bye or do something else. It was a slight buzz though, only enough to dull her senses. Her teeth were chattering and her fingers freezing, common when she was tired.

"Maybe it'd be a good idea to get you home then." Darion took in the chattering teeth and nearly purple lips. Taylor's slim body was shaking under her thin coat. Darion saw the sudden panic in Taylor’s eyes. "Walk me to my car at least?"

"S-sure."

They walked side by side, elbows occasionally brushing together."So, tell me why you really wanted to meet tonight." Darion studied the slender profile next to her. Startled, guilty, green eyes looked up.

"Well... I thought that since we lived in the same city an all, ya know? That, um, it'd be... interesting." All right. Way to go, Taylor. Let's just put all the cards on the table, not. This was a bad idea. My dreams, her...

"Are you in trouble?"

"Trouble? What do you mean?" the hacker mumbled at the ground.

"You keep looking over your shoulder, like someone's following you. And it looks like you haven't slept in days." The taller woman peered down into sad green eyes.

"I've just been having nightmares."

"Look," Darion took hold of slim shoulders and pulled Taylor to a stop, "I don't know you all that well, but I do know when someone's lying to me. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Every fucking thing is wrong. I'm a goddamned loose end right now." All of Taylor’s frustration and anger came out in a torrent and she refused to look the dark haired woman in the eyes.

"Let me help you, Taylor." Blue eyes met green and everything around them was forgotten.

"You-" Darion cut off in mid sentence, a startled look of pain crossing her face. Her hand went to the back of her head and came away covered in blood. "What the-" Stars swam around her vision and she swayed precariously.

Taylor jumped forward and caught Darion in her arms.

Bam! The force of the second shot tumbled Darion forward, knocking them both to the ground. Taylor fell with the weight of Darion on top of her and the hard cement beneath her head.

There were no screams, no calls for 911, even as faces peered out from behind curtains and around doorways.

Blackness, sweet oblivion, as a shadow loomed over the prone, unconscious women.   

Taylor woke with a rude slap across her cheek. Ahhh, damn that hurts. Her eyes blinked open. Angel stood above her, pale and terrifying.

"Darrrling, how's the head?"

"Where's Darion?" Taylor blinked rapidly, focusing on the small room, it's occupants and the pain at the back of her skull.

"Oh. Your little friend?" Angel scratched her chin. "I put her around here… somewhere."

"She's alive?"

"For the time being. Sadly, we have another issue to discuss." Pale, sadistic eyes glittering, Angel motioned to one of the men standing behind her. "I don't so much care that you're off fucking other people, darrling. It's the fact you lied to me. You know I won't tolerate that."

Roger, better known as Brick, stepped forward and backhanded Taylor.

So, this is the game we're going to play. "What do you want?" The hacker licked the blood off her lip with a raised eyebrow.

"I want the password."

"Trying to check up on me?" Owwww. Another slap, harder, cracking her nose. Blood gushed down over her chin. Damn you...

"I called Dren. You had his hardware shipped out last week." Angel leaned in till her breath brushed across Taylor's bloody face. "What you did in the subway... frankly, darling, it was messy. It brought up some questions I'd rather not have answered."

"I won't give you the password. They're my files." And answering questions? Who the hell was asking? Not the cops, or the mayor. They were already happily paid off. The press? Not likely. The press was considered a nothing, a simple nuisance in Angel's book. Who then?

"I want the files and you are going to give them to me. Brick, be a sweetheart and soften her up for me. I need to make a call." Angel fairly bounced to the door with glee. "Be careful not to kill her now." 

Be careful not to kill her? What a fucking laugh. Taylor pushed one eyelid up, pain searing across her entire body. Everything that didn't hurt, which wasn't much, focused on a way to escape.

Brick was somewhere outside the door, done with 'softening her up.' Angel had come back, chastised Brick for going too far and left to make yet another phone call.

Taylor still had no idea where Darion was, or if she was even alive.

The door creaked open and Taylor painfully looked up into pale blue eyes.

"Darrling, I see you're feeling better."

Taylor sighed. The simple movement caused her ribs to expand and a hot pain throbbed across her chest. There was blood in her mouth.

"Are you ready to give me the password? Or do I need to ask Brick to come back?"

Oh God... "I'll give you the password, but I want to see Darion first." The hacker sat as proudly as the pain would allow.

"Are you trying to bargain with me?" Angel asked with an incredulous tilt to her head.

"No. I see Darion or you don't get the password."

"Bitch." Angle gripped Taylor's chin with long, blood red fingernails. "I don't bargain. I don't make deals. I want that password. Now," she hissed.

Her mother’s face flashed before her eyes, the smell of stale cigarette’s on fingers sending Taylor careening back through hated memories. She hissed at Angel, "I don't make deals either. No Darion, no password." Taylor looked into icy blue eyes, seeing her life flash before her, not liking how it was about to end.

Angel considered. "Fine." She came around behind Taylor and bent to untie the restraints. "You can see her."

Damn, again that was too easy. Taylor could barely stand and Angel wasn't about to help her. She hobbled out the door, down a nondescript hallway and to a locked door, following in the blond devil's tracks.

The door opened and the first thing she saw was the puddle of blood. It trailed over to a pair of black biker boots.

"Ohmigod..."

Above that were jeans and a now familiar leather jacket.

"Be back in five, darrling." The door squealed shut and the hacker was left alone.

"Darion?" Taylor’s voice echoed off the rusty metal walls. Water dripped from spots on the ceiling and the ocean could be heard outside, lapping at the pier. A dim bulb illuminated her path to the prone woman.

"Darion?" Taylor questioned again. A slight groan was the only response. "God, I can't believe the evening ended like this."

"Mmmah... yeah, how about a second date?" came the quirky, if shaky response.

"Cha right. The second date watch me get somebody killed." I'm damn good at getting other people hurt, the hacker thought grimly. Taylor bent to stop Darion from rising to a sitting position. "Don't. You're badly hurt. Just stay still."

The dark haired woman had little strength to fight, so she laid still.

Taylor’s gentle fingers searched out the wound at the back of Darion’s skull. Just a flesh wound. She tore a long strip from her worn T-shirt and wrapped the make shift bandage around Darion’s dark hair.

It wasn't much, but it'd have to do till Angel let them go. Let us go? I'm not so sure that's an option anymore. Taylor held her head low, ashamed, for the first time in years for the pain she was causing someone else. What makes you so different from the others Darion Grange? Different from the man on the subway? Different from the countless thousands of hours I've spent destroying people's work, business' and research? Different from Julie? She shoved thoughts and memories aside with a shudder.

Taylor absently cradled Darion’s head in her lap.

"Taylor? You all right?" Darion eyed the battered young woman skeptically when no response came. "I- I, um, you want to tell me now what kind of trouble you're in now?"

Taylor’s eye was swelling, her lip was split and blood ran from a wound on her forehead. Darion unconsciously raised her hand to touch Taylor’s cheek.

She flinched away and helped Darion to a sitting position, looking at the warehouse floor. "Not really," she whispered.

Darion struggled to sit further up, pain making her dizzy and nauseous. She choked down the bile rising in the back of her throat. "I didn't see who came up behind us. Did you?"

"No." It was the truth.

"Was this random?" Darion asked, knowing it wasn't, couldn't be. Someone had wanted her out of the picture. Someone wanted Taylor, for something.

"No." The truth again. Taylor now looked everywhere but the dark woman's face. "What's that?" she asked suddenly, intent on a far spot on the wall.

Painfully Darion turned to look. Where? That seam of light? "A door?"

"Maybe." Taylor jumped to her feet. "I seriously doubt Angel would be stupid enough to leave it unlocked, even if she doesn't view you as a threat." The hacker was out of the dim circle of light before Darion could even respond.

Angel? Angel, angel, angel... There was the sound of metal scraping against metal. The clink, clink of chains rattling and a muffled, angry curse. Angel... my god, the 'Dark Angel?'

"It's locked," Taylor stated the obvious, for lack of a better opening. Darion's eyes were wide, pupils dilated dangerously. Shock?

"Dark Angel?" Blue eyes looked up into a suddenly pale face. "God, Taylor, I knew you were in trouble, but... this... the 'Dark Angel?'" With a groan Darion stood, swaying with the pain, steadying herself with fear.

The hacker peered at the dark beauty standing terrified before her. What the hell do I say? Apologize for getting her involved in this fucking mess or just go and give Angel what she wants and try to get the hell out of here with all body parts intact?

A loud squeak and the door opened to reveal Angel in all her deadly beauty. "Well, well, well... sleeping beauty awakens. Lovely, truly lovely." She leered up and down Darion's body. "Do we have a name?"

Darion remained silent momentarily, studying the dark angel. "Little Bo Peep," she finally replied.

"A sense of humor too, how lovely. You certainly know how to pick them, darrling," Angel addressed Taylor. "You got to see your little fuck buddy," Darion's eyebrows skyrocketed under her bangs, "so now you come with me."

The hacker shuffled dejectedly forward. Time to face the music. But a hand came to rest on her shoulder, pulling her to a stop.

"Where are you taking her?" Darion asked."Nowhere that concerns you, darrling." Angel's eyes glinted with the first traces of anger."Well, it does concern me." The dark haired woman tucked Taylor behind her body. "Taylor concerns me."

From this new vantage point Taylor could fairly see the anger now emanating off the archangels body. It pulsed and throbbed with every ache in Taylor's body, from her bloody nose, to her cracked ribs, cuts and bruises. Terror gathered and intensified into a cold knot in Taylor’s chest.

"Darion?" Taylor whispered.

But Darion and Angel were in a stare down of sorts, appraising one another, sizing up strengths and weaknesses.

"Oh, Brick," Angel called to the door, "do be a dear and come in here."

Taylor sensed rather then felt the roiling tension in Darion's body. Her subtle gathering of muscles, her body coiling, ready to strike. Tentatively the hacker laid a small hand on the leather clad back. "Darion?" she whispered again.

The door squeaked open and in entered Brick, barrel chested, ugly, the embodiment of brute force.

"Cheater," Darion murmured.

Taylor shivered.

"What was that?" Angel asked dangerously.

"Nothing." Darion smiled and turned to Taylor. "What is it?" she asked, feeling the shaking behind her and the gentle touch of a hand on her back.

"Don't do this. Let me give Angel what she wants. Then she'll let us walk out of here," Taylor pleaded.

Darion’s eyes darkened. "Do you really believe that?"

Taylor glanced at Angel talking animatedly with Brick. "No," she hung her head, "no, I don't believe it at all."

"Then let me find another way out of here."

"How?" Taylor asked with the first trace of hope.

Darion paused to consider. She didn't want Taylor to go with Angel, to let the young woman out of her site, but... "Can you delay whatever it is you need to give Angel?"

"Run her around in circles? I can do that. For how long?" Taylor lowered her voice. "What are you going to do?"

"Ladies, I really do hate to break up the lovefest, but Taylor and I have business to attend to."

Taylor started anxiously towards Angel, giving a sideways glance back.

"Just a minute, sweetie." Darion tried not to stumble over the unfamiliar term. "How about a kiss good-bye?" She stepped forward, pulling Taylor into an embrace, leaning in for a kiss, whispering close to her ear. "Stall as long as you can... twenty minutes, after that, just run like hell."

Taylor nodded mutely, her body a tangle of nerves and sensations pressed tightly against Darion.

"How pathetically sweet, darrling. Kiss your baby good-bye. Now." Angel's words were sugar coated over her impatience.

Darion's head moved a fraction of an inch, her warm breath trailing across Taylor's cheek. Their lips met, soft and sensuous, startling them both with it's intensity.

Taylor stumbled out of the embrace, frightened. Her insides shook with jello-y alarm. Angel waited impatiently, cold blue eyes fastened on the mysterious dark stranger.

Not a word was exchanged as Angel, Taylor and Brick exited the room. Brick stayed behind, posted as guard duty outside Darion's 'cell.' Angel continued down the dimly lit halls, following twists and turns, one hand gripping Taylor's bruised forearm.

They entered an office, more efficiently lit. The hacker's two working computers lined a make shift table. Subtly she felt the invasion at Angel being in her home, felt the fear that she had managed to break the access code, had searched through her belongings...

Taylor sat at the chair, fingers shaking over the familiar switches. She delayed the boot up process as much as she could, trying not to make Angel suspicious, who had drawn up beside her, intently studying the computers.

"Good morning, Taylor. There was an unauthorized attempt to access my hard drive at 3:25am EST."

"Understood." Delay, delay, delay... Absently Taylor ran her fingers over her swollen lip, still tingling from Darion’s kiss.

"The files," Angel interrupted, "show me your files."

The computer picked up an unauthorized voice pattern and the cursor began to flash a lighter color. Good, now the fun starts. Angel didn't seem to notice the change.

"Open file directory c, search all." Taylor commanded. A good five minutes... but boy, is Angel gonna be pissed.

The computer opened a new window and the list began to gather. Programs, sub programs, software add-ons, patches, virus detectors, Winzip, Internet connections, saved pathways and passwords, www, E-mail... every little thing...

"What is all this?" Angel asked impatiently. "I want the projects... not, not this nonsense!"

"You wanted the files on the computer, Angel, and here they are," Taylor replied, as innocently as possible.

"Well stop it," Angel ordered.

"I can't stop a search while it's in progress." Thank God Angel knew next to nothing about the intricacies of computers. She could turn on, type and turn 'em off, but that was the extent of her knowledge. She'd relied on Taylor, her prize hacker, to get done what needed to be done.

"Dammit, Taylor, don't fuck around with me." Angel stood and paced, reining in her temper, knowing that if she killed Taylor the information would be gone, for good.

"I'm not fucking around. You asked for the files and that's what I gave you." I am sooo far from fucking around. Taylor couldn't help the bitterness that crept into her voice.

"Fine. I'll be more... precise." Angel emphasized the last word sarcastically. "I want your project notes, times of delivery and anything subsequent pertaining to them."

Geez, not asking for much are we? "Each file is deleted after transmission, Angel. I have no way of retrieving them." Thank god she’d deleted the last one before all this happened.

"Goddamn you hackers. You can do anything with computers, so work your little magic." Angel's hands came to rest on the hacker's shoulders.

"When the hard drive is erased the information is next to impossible to retrieve," Taylor explained patiently.

"Next to impossible? Then you can do it?" An unexpected note entered Angel's voice.

"Yes, I could. But to do it would take hours of searching, unencrypting and reformatting." Truthfully told it could be done, however not on this computer, because it was designed that way. I'm stalling Darion, the hacker mentally cried, hurry up, please, and do whatever the fuck you're going to do.

"Hours..." Angel mumbled.

Silence shrouded the office. The tension was almost tangible, as if it could be seen, reached out to and snatched up.

"I know you, Taylor, better then you think." Angel's hands gripped Taylor's shoulders tightly, menacingly. "You would have a backup." Her voice lowered. "That's what Julie was, wasn't she? A backup, incase I didn't work out."

"Can’t you get off that stupid computer for one minute, Taylor?" Julie begged.

Julie hadn’t even known the half of it. "Julie was not a backup. I've never had back up plans. I've always crashed through life head first." Taylor squirmed under Angel’s grasp.

"Think whatever you like darrling, but I know you can get me those files and whatever else you've been working on. If I have to Darion will pay the price for your lies." Angel's voice caressed Taylor's ear.

Darion? God no... "Fine," Taylor said stiffly, "but it will take time."

"You don't have much, darrling. So, get to work." Triumphantly Angel returned to her chair, leaned back, and settled in.

All of ten minutes had passed. Stall, stall, stall... "You didn't bring the modem? Or any of the external hardware?" Taylor hoped and prayed.

"The extra shit lying around were stuffed in boxes and brought here," Angel replied.

"Where is it? I need at least the modem." So much depended on Angel leaving the room, if only for a second.

"Fine, what does it look like? I'll have Alan sort through the shit and bring it here." Gracefully unfolding her legs and standing Angel crossed to the desk and the phone.

Taylor began to panic. Don’t be stupid, play it cool. She took a deep breath. "Are you sure you want Alan getting it? That moron would probably drop it, break it." The hacker paused anxiously and Angel turned a thoughtful eye on her. "It'd take forever to get a replacement, especially since it's so late." Hook, line and....

"What does it look like? I'll get the damn thing myself."

...sinker.   

The warehouse floor had been swept clean, not a bit of rope, wire or anything useful could be found. Darion stood at the door Taylor had spotted less then a minute ago, with no idea what to do. Pain rolled around her head, from one eye to her ear, to the other eye and around the back, to the front, to start all over again.

Absently she scratched an itch under her right breast, her fingertips hitting the edge of the underwire bra. Duh!

So little time and so much to do, Darion thought with a wry smile. Time was beginning to run out as she worked to unchain the door. It took forever, in the space of five minutes, to open the rusty door without so much as a squeak.

With a satisfied smirk, she looked out into the night. The moon shone done on the pier, the lapping water, and slowly a plan began to form.

She leaned in heavy to the guarded door, the pain of fear aching under the bandage, listening. Only a silence on the other side, from someone resting. A single knuckle tap to the door, softly, then she stepped back quickly to hide behind when it opened.

The door swung open, protesting on it's hinges, then silence. Darion could almost hear the frantic swiveling of Brick's head as he searched the room. Then his eyes rested on the open door in back, moonlight filtering through.

Darion heard his sharp intake of breath and his hasty step forward, cursing.

Panic almost froze her to the spot, but her police academy training stepped up and took over. She slammed the door forward, adding the weight of her entire body to it. Another curse, as Brick finally realized what was happening, then a thud and silence.

My gun would be real handy right now. She peered cautiously around the door. The locomotive that never ran out of steam was slowly climbing to his feet.

"Goddamn, son of a bitch." Darion cursed, moved forward and kicked him squarely in the head. He groaned and sank, once again, to the ground.

The dark haired woman stepped carefully around the unmoving body and headed down the hall, hopefully in the right direction. It was time to find Taylor and get out of here. 

"Merry Christmas!" Taylor said happily.

"Oh yes. A very merry Christmas." Her heart beat rapidly against her rib cage. It was now or never.

The door clicked behind her. Angel was returning.

"Christmas is in ten minutes," Taylor said softly.

"All right, I found the stupid thing. This is it, isn't it?" Angel held forth a thin device, with numerous small lights across the front, and the phone cord still trailing behind it.

"Yeah, that's it. Where's the phone jack?" Taylor asked. She was afraid the beating of her heart could be heard.

"Under the desk," Angel replied, oblivious to Taylor's pulse roaring in her ears.

Taylor wasted no time in setting up the modem and logging in. Angel was going to get a glimpse of every paranoid thing she could imagine.

"What now?" Angel asked, impatient as always.

"I stored all the information you want onto a remote server. It will only take a few minutes to piggy back across Asia, parts of Africa and Europe... and into the files." Taylor was suddenly very calm, and she couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

While the computer was busy piggy backing them across the world the hacker opened a small side window.

"What's that?" Angel immediately asked.

"The files are encrypted. They need to be dechipered." Taylor began to explain. "This window allows-"

"Nevermind, just do it," Angel commanded.

Oh, yes sir. Yes, sir! A small grin escaped the hacker's usually stoic face. Too easy. Damn, it's too easy. What if something's happened to Darion? That immediately wiped the smile from her face.

She opened yet another window, praying that Angel wouldn't recognize her own mainframe’s logon interface, even if the computer had already changed all interfaces to resemble Taylor’s own handmade logon screen as soon as it had recognized another voice in the room.

Once she typed the password and had entered Angel's network of computers, she minimized the window and waited till the remote server had connected and the unencrypt process began. That would take another two minutes.

As files spewed across the screen, changing from binary numbers to English, Angel clapped her hands in maniacal joy. "Now the fun starts. Get up."

Taylor moved, almost reluctantly. Make it look good, a little voice said.

Angel murmured aloud the file names, searching for something. They both knew what that something was. Taylor took a quiet step back, then another...

"What the hell?" Angel asked, startled.

"It's a... virus... the computer picked up," Taylor explained hesitantly. Angel didn't know much about virus', did she? Would she question it anyway?

"You should get the stupid thing fixed then," was Angel's response as she dipped her hands back to the keyboard and her search of the files.

Taylor's heart lodged in her throat as Angel reared up out of the computer chair and faced her furiously. "You would DARE defy me?" Angel roared. Her eyes flashed anger and her body emanated rage.

"No!" The hacker backed up a step as Angel moved forward. "No, it's a virus, like I told you."

"Then fix it," the blond hissed.

54-53-52...

"I can't," Taylor lied.

50-49-48...

"I know what you're hiding, darling. When I find her, you'll regret ever lying to me." Angel said it softly, a whispered promise of what was to come.

Taylor was almost to the door.

A ringing started and Taylor fairly jumped out of her skin. What the... telephone. It's just the phone, calm down. Calm down.

Angel backed over to the desk, her eyes not once leaving Taylor. "What is it?" Her blue eyes widened, her mouth scowling. "Well, dammit, find her! She's injured, she can't go far." Angel slammed the phone down. "Seems your little friend left without you, darrling." A smile graced her face, beautiful and ugly.

22-21-20...

"Doesn't matter to me." Calm enveloped Taylor again. Words would not hurt Angel, but they could lift the hacker's soul to freedom. "Julie is far away, Angel. You won't find her. I won't let you. And, after this... you won't find me."

10-9-8...

"Pretty sure of ourselves, aren't we? Don't forget, you were nothing before you met me and you'll be nothing without me." Angel sneered.

7-6-5...

"I was nothing with you, Angel. I am someone. I'll find out who... later." Taylor took one more step back. Her hand just touched the doorknob. Angel came around the desk.

3-2-1...

"No!" Angel raced to the computer.

Another ringing started. The fire alarm. Chaos erupted. Angel pounded on the computer keys. Taylor flung open the door and raced down the hall.

She ran into Darion running in the opposite direction. They almost collided. "Let's go!" Taylor cried over the alarm. "How do we get out of here?"

"This way." Darion grabbed the thin arm and pulled them down the hall, to the rusty room.

They skidded to a halt outside the door. Brick was there, waiting, and he was... a little pissed off.

Oh great, Darion thought as she pushed Taylor off to the side and took up a defensive posture. Brick swiped a large, meaty hand in her direction. She ducked under it and came up behind him, and sent a kick flying at his kidneys. He let out a painful groan, but turned to face the dark haired woman in fury.

Darion retreated further into the room, intent on keeping the large man away from Taylor. He bounded forward, struck out again and missed, cursing furiously.

"You can only hit women who are tied up? Is that it, little man?" She grinned at him, taunting him.

"Fucking bitch," he mumbled, clumsily reaching out for her again.

Taylor watched, riveted to the spot. Part of her mind reminded her there was very little time left. Angel would come storming down the hall with reinforcements any second. And any second the demons would be finished and the computer would self-destruct, taking whatever it could with it. Finding fuse boxes, generators... anything the demons could interface with.

The hacker had one motto. Do a job and do it well. Nothing half assed... Taylor took the lock off the door, entered the rusty room and shut the door behind them. Brick was completely distracted by the dark haired beauty, but he was too tall for Taylor to come up behind. She had one chance and only one.

With a short prayer that her aim would be true she hefted the lock, testing it's weight, aimed and threw with all her strength. It bounced harmlessly off his stupid, thick head.

She let out an audible gulp as he whirled to face her, a furious scowl on his ugly face. It changed just as suddenly to an almost comical blank look. As he turned back to see what hit him he fell in a slow ballet dance to the floor, out cold.

Taylor looked over to blue eyes and a startled grin.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall." Darion shrugged.

There were suddenly footsteps in the hall behind Taylor that urged her into action. "We have to get out of here. Now."

Darion waved a hand toward the back door, waited for Taylor to reach her side, then they both ran for freedom.

"I think I should tell you," Taylor began breathlessly, "that I set the computer to self destruct-"

"What?" Darion stopped, five feet from the pier's edge. She could hear someone cursing inside, footsteps getting closer... "Do you trust me?"

Taylor didn't hesitate. "Yes." Her eyes turned to the moonlit water. Without conscious thought she reached for Darion's hand. "Let's go."

The first of the explosions shook the walls behind them as they ran to the edge. The second explosion shattered windows and shook the foundation as they jumped. And the third explosion sent a fireball racing out the still trembling remains, throwing their jump an extra few feet, slamming them in the water and tearing apart their hands.

As Taylor sunk below the surface screams rang in her ears. Angel's screams? Bricks? Darion's? Or her own?

Fire raced across the surface, extinguished itself to a black cloud and blocked the light from the moon. Taylor kicked up to the surface, amazed to find herself far off to the right, only a few feet from one of the wooden pillars. She grabbed hold with shaky arms, barnacles tearing at her skin as the waves rocked her back and forth.

Her ears rang with the explosion, and her body ached. Black smoke obliterated everything more then a few feet in front of her. Where's Darion? Did she make it? A sob tore through her throat and escaped.

"Hey," a gentle hand touched her shoulder, scaring the shit out of her, "we made it." Darion's voice was hoarse.

In a heartbeat Taylor let go of the pier support and tackled Darion, bringing them both under the water, then sputtering back to the surface.

"Umph." Darion spit out some water. "Glad to see you too. "

"Can we get out of here now?" Taylor asked with trembling lips.

"Yeah," Darion replied gently.   

"I need a computer." The hacker's body shook and she coughed, tasting blood. Her mind was not on dry clothes, getting warm, or sleeping. She was focused completely on making sure their tracks were covered.

Darion had other thoughts. Those focused on warmth, sleep and food. Angel was surely dead from the explosion. There was nothing left to do, except get dry then call the cops.

But Taylor knew something Darion didn't. As hard as it was to believe there was a higher power above Angel. "I NEED a computer," Taylor repeated.

"I have a laptop at the apartment," Darion supplied, reluctantly.

"Your apartment isn't safe," the hacker immediately replied.

"Goddamn," the dark haired woman cursed and then mumbled, "All I wanted was a nice quiet evening, some food, maybe... grrr, forget it."

"Well, I'm sorry! I thoroughly regret I ever thought I could ask someone to help me." Taylor's face was pale and her lips trembled violently. When the hurt entered Darion's eyes she was too weak to respond and simply turned to walk away, as she had so many times before.

"I don't regret it," Darion said, so softly that under the dim light of the alley it was sucked up and taken into the shadows before it even reached Taylor. 

Taylor's sneakers squish-squashed down the sidewalk in rhythm with her thoughts. Stupid, stupid, stupid, can't keep your mouth shut, stupid, stupid fuck... She was cold, tired, hungry and in pain. The ache that had been in her ribs had intensified in the flight from the pier and the slam into the water. Blood was a constant tinny taste in her mouth. The rib was broken. At least one, maybe two.

The pain threatened to envelop her, pull her down into the darkness, but she wasn't scared. There was one thing left to do before she could surrender to sweet, oblivious death. That something was within sight, at the end of the block. A pay phone. So far, yet so close.

She clutched a bloody arm to her side, breathing shallowly. A few more steps, just a few. Come on, this is important. For once in your God-forsaken-pathetic-fucking-life don't give up!

There. Her hand touched the smooth, black plastic, unhooking the phone as her knees collapsed and brought her to the cold sidewalk. She brought it's cold smoothness to her ear, reaching painfully towards the buttons. It took too long to realize there was no dial tone.

Her luck had finally run out. Blood seeped past her trembling, purple lips. Her breathing slowed and she held onto the receiver like it was a lifeline. It's broken, severed cord dangled down before her eyes, taunting her.

Stars danced around her field of vision. The cord swayed, waving good-bye. "No," Taylor's voice was failing.

"Shhh, I'm here." A gentle voice and soft hands checked her pulse. "I'll get you to a hospital and you'll be just fine." Darion's blue eyes looked down, swallowing Taylor whole.

"Phone," she begged.

"Shhh, sweetheart, save your strength." Darion carefully gathered the young woman up in her arms.

"Phone," Taylor beseeched in a strangled voice, "Julie... warn... 1-212-555-6578... Julie, please..."

"I will," Darion said.

"Promise?" Taylor implored, capturing Darion's eyes with her own cloudy green.

"I promise." Stay with me, Taylor! Don't leave me now. Not when I just found you. But the green eyes closed anyway.   

"Julie?" Darion asked into the static void.

"Yes. Hello? Hello, this is Julie." The voice was muffled, high and feminine.

"Um," Darion didn't know where to begin, didn't even know who Julie was. "I promised Taylor I'd call-"

"Taylor? My God, what's happened? Is she all right?"

"We're in the hospital-" Darion began.

"Omigod..."

"Taylor has a concussion, two broken ribs and a punctured lung. She's still unconscious, so they're running some tests. But the doctor's say she'll be all right. The last thing she said, before she went unconscious, was to call you." Darion listened intently, but there was only silence and static. "Julie?"

"I-I'm here." Julie's voice was shaky. "She'll be ok then?"

"Yes."

"Good. She was never supposed to contact me, unless something went wrong.… My God... I- I have to, I have to..." Julie fumbled with the phone, at a loss. Something had gone terribly wrong. "How do you know Taylor? And who are you?" She didn't mean that to be as harsh as it sounded.

"My name is Darion and I met Taylor for dinner the other night. We ran into some trouble." Hello, understatement.

"Take care of her, Darion. She won't like it, but she needs someone. I've got to go." Julie said.

Click. "Hello? Julie?" But the phone was dead. Darion replaced the phone in it's cradle and turned slowly to face the empty waiting room. What now? 

Taylor was still unconscious, a chest tube draining the blood from her punctured lung, and an IV feeding her painkillers.

She was dreaming. Again.

A man stood before her, tall as Darion, dark haired with classic features. He was handsome, in a frightening kind of perfection. No smile graced his face, no warmth seeped from his eyes. He was impassive and his eyes spoke volumes for his silence.

Taylor trembled before his familiar presence. As his body began to glow she reeled back in panic. "Oh God..."

"No. I am not the One God, but I am a God." His voice was low, filled with a seductive menace. "I've come back for you, and her." The God's smile never reached his eyes.

"Why? I never did you wrong." She'd spoken before she'd even realized her mouth had opened.

"Never did me wrong!" he roared. "You kept her from returning to me. Where she belongs!"

"No, she chose that path herself. I had nothing to do with it." What am I saying? Taylor could not help but meet the god's gaze fully.

"Little girl, you don't realize the years of hard work you undid. Even today you don't understand." He pointed an accusing finger in her direction.

Little girl? Why you... "Well, super jock, you don't seem to realize something either." Taylor's brash personality surfaced. "You lost her, for good. No amount of meddling in our lives has ever changed that."

"You-"

"Shut up and listen. We were given a chance to reunite. I'll admit it's rather tedious in the beginning meeting each other all over again and having to work through forgotten memories, but hell, it's worth it. And it's worth being here to stop YOU." Taylor smirked, on a roll now. "Her battle with the darkness you so love tempts her each time, but she fights it. And she wins."

He was still sputtering at her total lack of respect for a god, especially one as powerful as himself. But slowly he smiled. "She didn't fight the darkness this time, you did."

Taylor blinked, remembering an earlier dream.

"You are the one who fights the dark side now, little one." He smiled, contemptuously. "And, if I recall, you were loosing."

He was right, of course, but what did that matter? "So what? I know who I am now, who I was. With Darion I can fight you."

"Do you really think so?" His voice lowered. "Let's find out, shall we?"

With a twist of his hand a fire began to burn in her chest. She struggled for air, clawing to the surface of her dreams.

"Darion!" she screamed.

Taylor's eyes flew open to an empty room, a chill in the air and fire raging in her chest. Darion? Unable to stop the tears flowing freely down her cheeks or the pain it caused she sank back down into oblivion.

Someone was calling her, bringing her back from the darkness. She pushed heavy lids up and slowly focused on the pale blue eyes looking down on her.

"Hey, sleepy head. You had us worried for awhile there." Darion looked fondly at the young woman.

Taylor coughed and pain shot through her chest. She paled visibly.

"Do you need the nurse?" Darion asked, automatically reaching for the call button.

She nodded mutely, tears in her eyes. "H-how long have I... been here?" Her voice was hoarse. Taylor struggled to rise, but Darion's strong, gentle hands kept her to the bed.

"Lie still. They still have the chest tube in." Darion's hand lingered on Taylor's shoulder, sliding down to rest on her forearm.

The hacker gave her a blank look and gave up on everything but fighting the pain.

"We've only been here a few hours. The doctor's ran some tests and did some x-rays. They put in the chest tube to drain the blood and fluids from your lungs," Darion explained as she grabbed the cup on the nightstand, poured water and handed it to Taylor.

"Sounds like I didn't miss anything exciting." She slowly sipped the water. "What else? When do I get out of here?"

Darion smiled ruefully. "A couple of days. They're worried about the concussion. They need to monitor you overnight and it'll be awhile till that comes out," she motioned to the tube.

"What about you?" Taylor asked, noticing the makeshift bandage was gone.

"Just a flesh wound. It stopped bleeding before we even got here."

Taylor tried to move and grimaced as a slice of pain shoot up her side. "I feel like I got run over by a goddamned Mack truck." It hurt just to smile. She handed the cup back to Darion and passed a tentative hand over the bandage on her head, then peeked at the bandage on her ribs. The tube stuck out like a third arm.

The nurse chose that moment to walk in. "No, honey, but it sure was one hell of a hit and run."

Taylor threw a startled glance at Darion, who merely raised one dark eyebrow. "I don't remember it," she mumbled.

"That's not unusual, sweetheart. Shall we get you drugged up and off to dream land?" The nurse winked as she adjusted the flow on the IV. She proceeded to check Taylor's vitals. As she headed to the door she said the doctor would be in, in about five minutes.

"Hit and run?" Taylor asked when the nurse had left. She searched the blue eyes that were hesitant to meet her own.

"Are the meds working yet?" Darion replied instead, then sighed. "It's just easier this way right now."

"Afraid of ruining your career?" Taylor asked bitterly, shifting just the smallest bit, sending a wave of pain racing through her body. She bit her lip to stifle a scream.

"No, I don't care about my career." The dark woman hesitated. "I care about you. If you think you're still in danger, it's better-" she faced the door as the knob clicked.

Taylor's heart soared into her throat, but it was just the doctor.

"Evening, ladies." The young doctor addressed both of them, then turned to face her patient. "Hey there, Taylor, my name's Jennifer Holly. I was the trauma surgeon on call when you arrived in the ER. Since you weren't awake at the time I need to ask you a few questions, all right?"

"Sure, doc." Taylor tried a small smile for the surgeon. It quickly turned to a grimace of pain.

"Still in a lot of pain?" Jen walked around to the IV, examining the chart and the new dosage. She held back a frown as she pulled a chair up to the bed. "First, let me explain what has happened so far-"

"It's all right. Darion filled me in already," Taylor said through clenched teeth.

"Do you have any questions for me then?" The young doctor carefully studied her patient, noting her pale skin and slightly dilated pupils. She made a quick note on Taylor's chart.

"When do the meds kick in?" Taylor got right to the heart of the problem.

"In a few minutes," Jen reassured her. "Think you can help me out with some things now?"

"Sure." Taylor's foot itched. She doubted she'd be able to scratch it for a long time. It was too painful to move and exhausting to talk. "What do you need to know?"

Darion faded over to the windowsill and sat, listening quietly. Her heart ached for Taylor's pain and she wished uselessly that she could take it away. Her own head throbbed, but Aspirin would take care of that later. Taylor's safety and well being came first.

"Do you remember the accident?" Jen asked, tucking an arrant strand of blond hair behind her ear. When Taylor simply shrugged the surgeon continued. "The reason I ask is we need to assess the damages and make sure nothing was missed in the initial x-rays and CT."

"Dunno," Taylor mumbled. "Everything hurts right now." Her eyes were heavy, maybe the painkiller's were helping.

"I understand." Tread carefully here, Jen reminded herself, there's more going on then a simple hit and run. "Your blood alcohol level was high when you were brought in tonight, Taylor."

"So?" she replied, defensively.

"I'm not judging you, hon, I'm here to take the best possible care of you that I can. So, I need you to help me and to tell me the truth." She lowered her voice so only Taylor could hear. "How much did you have to drink before the accident?"

"Just a few glasses of wine," Taylor replied. She was reluctant to give the surgeon anymore information then necessary.

Jen nodded and made another note in her chart. "And before that?"

The young woman sighed and closed eyelids that suddenly felt as heavy as bricks. "Been clean for two days, I think. But... before that... I'm an alcoholic." She opened pleading eyes, passing briefly over the surgeon to rest on the tall, dark shadow by the window. She caught a glint of pale blue.

"Ok, thank you, Taylor." Jen stood, clipboard in hand, making no final notes. "Tomorrow m