Sneaking into the bathroom, she turned it on and waited… would she be able to call for help without being overheard by the goon outside the door?  After pounding her brain for a few seconds, she finally remembered the number for the office in Kansas City – the only one she knew, the one where she had came from – but  then realized it would be after midnight in Kansas City by now.  What were the odds of someone being there?  She tried anyway, and reached the answering service.  As Heather flipped the phone shut, her numb sweaty hands barely functioning, she thought she heard a dull thud outside the door.  She strained to listen, afraid to peer outside the bathroom door.  Light streamed in the bedroom from the main room… the front door was open, and she could hear softly padded footsteps.  She dimly realized, as she crept into the shadows, that she was unarmed.  If she were lucky, it would be one of Castor’s enemies, looking for any valuable items he may have been foolish enough to carry along, and would leave once he realized there was nothing to take.

            “Heather….”, she heard a man’s voice whisper frantically.  At first she didn’t recognize it, but the silhouette of a prominent chin against the light of the hallway gave him away.

            “Archer!”, she hissed, crouching near the doorway to the bedroom.  “How long have you been there?”.

            He flipped on a light and turned to face her.  Immediately, he noticed her dress, his beady blue eyes squinting in disgust.  “A new outfit?  Wow, you’ve been looking quite stylish lately, haven’t you?”.

            She ignored his sarcasm and stood up.  The charley horse in her leg was coming back.  “Castor and his guys are downstairs…”.

            “Yeah, yeah, I know.  He’s being watched.”, Archer interjected lightly.  “Why aren’t you with him?”.

            At first she said nothing, busying herself with straightening the hem of her dress, but finally she looked at him squarely.  “I don’t think he’s too crazy about me right now.  He caught me snooping around… I was looking for some reassurance that I wasn’t alone in this!”.

            “You haven’t been.”, he replied simply, peeking out the largest window in the main room.  The tone in his voice made her heart jump into her throat as she remembered the fantastic interlude in the shower, and she tried to tell herself that nobody knew about it but her… it was all in the past anyway.  The air, void of any noise, only reminded her that Castor was downstairs conducting business and was being watched.  Did he know?  Something told her that he did know.  Peeking out the front door, she was startled to see a large pair of feet, jutting out from brown trousers and matching brown socks, lying lengthwise across the floor.  The rest of him, stuffed awkwardly in a closet, must have been huge if his feet were any indication.  Archer noticed her looking at him and piped up.  “He’ll be out for awhile… had a hell of a time hitting a vein on him.  I hate needles anyway.”. 

            “So are we leaving now?  Or do we stay until we bust Castor?”, Heather asked quietly, gearing herself up to walk away forever and never look back.

            “We’re camping out for awhile.  We suspect that Castor and his business associates will be hanging out in Citron for a couple of hours.  Once they split up, we jump in.  You’ll stay here until it’s over.”.  The agent walked into the bedroom, throwing open drawers and closet doors and rummaging carelessly.

            “You’re leaving me here?  Alone?”, she squeaked. “Haven’t I been through enough?”. 

Archer turned to face her, sneering.  “Oh, right… it doesn’t look like you’ve suffered.  I don’t think waiting it out for another two hours is going to cramp your style.”.  Heather’s face burned in shame, and for the first time she realized that she had to own up to her feelings.  She had been seduced by Castor… there was no question about what he could do for her, what he already had done for her.  She loved every second she was with him, the way he instinctively knew how to touch her and reach out to her, just as she was trying to reach out to him, but in the dark, cold recess of her mind she knew who she really was and where she belonged.  He couldn’t have picked a better time to turn on her.  In a couple of hours, he would be out of her life forever… what the FBI chose to do with him and Pollux was no concern of hers.  Subconsciously, she rubbed her hands together and hugged herself defensively as she rehashed the information she could give Archer and the others about what she’d seen over the past few days.  “Will I have backup while I’m sitting here like a lame duck?”.

Archer had pretty much exhausted what little resources the room had to offer.  “We’ve got some guys downstairs.”.  Glancing at his watch, he quickly checked his weapon, hidden under his sleeve, and strode across the room, his ****y strut casting schizophrenic shadows across the floor.  “Hang tight, Sinclaire.”, he said before shutting the door behind him.  She thought she heard a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but chose to dismiss it.

  The minutes ticked by smoothly… she surprised herself by not breaking down in tears or waxing nostalgic over never seeing Castor again.  She knew this was coming… who was she to believe, even for a minute, that there was any future with him?  He’s a criminal, she thought ruefully as she lounged on the couch.  Hot guy, great lay, but that’s about it.  As she toyed with the bracelet, gleaming in the pale moonlight streaming in from the windows, she heard a light scratching at the front door.  Without thinking, she peeked through the peephole… a flash of deep blue-black, defiant against the mahogany inlay of the hallway, caused her to jump back defensively.  Her heart was racing, unashamed… her eyes squeezed shut, trying in vain to block out reality, but the rest of her knew better.  The scratching continued, more persistent and aggressive, and she was certain that he knew she was there, listening.  Finally, she opened the door with cold, shaking hands.  God, he’s gorgeous, she realized, at the same time forcing herself to avoid his gaze for as long as possible, but he sucked her in, just like he always had.

His raspy, exuberant laugh was nearly overcome by shortness of breath, and in the hallway’s light his eyes gleamed… he’d been crying, she realized.  “Baby….”, he gasped, his arms outstretched to her.  “I’m an idiot.  I’m a ****ing idiot!!!  You know I can’t do this without you!”, he shouted.  She could smell alcohol on him, but he was focused on her like a laser beam, as if to take her into himself and never let her go.  “I sat there in that restaurant the whole time, and couldn’t think of a damn thing but you.  You’re my girl… I don’t give a **** who you were before, or who you are now.  You…”, he whispered as he embraced her body, frozen in place with surprise and shock, “you are the woman of my dreams.  And I won’t let any stupid ****ing disagreement get between us.  Hey… you were just doing your job!!”.  He pulled her close to him, his wet eager mouth trailing kisses across her cheek and down her neck.  She swallowed hard to hold back the tears.  “I’m sorry I left you… I was an *******… a goddamn *******… you’re mine, and always will be.”.  As suddenly as he pounced on her, he grasped her by both forearms and shook her, their noses inches from each other.  “But you don’t trust me… you have to trust me!!”.  Heather stared at him blankly, willing her heart to empty out all of the residual feelings she still had for him.  “As long as we’re together, you can’t be trying to hurt me.  You hurt me so much.”, he whispered thickly, his voice choking a little.

“I won’t hurt you, Castor.  Not anymore.”, she replied blankly, trying to avert her gaze.  How could he be so manic, kissing her in one moment and shaking her the next?  He wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she could feel him trembling a little… tentatively, she responded with an embrace that, for just a moment, was warmer than it should have been.  She had to break away from him by any means necessary, but holding him felt so good.  What the hell is wrong with me?, she silently seethed. 

            “I left you up here, by yourself.  I shouldn’t have done that… it wasn’t cool.”, he said with a nervous laugh, rubbing his chin sheepishly.  He turned away from her for a moment, fishing for something in his jacket, and in her peripheral vision Heather thought she saw someone peek around the corner, then pull back.  After a couple of minutes, Castor turned to her again with a charming smile.  “Hey… ya hungry?”, he asked.  Reaching into the inner lining of his jacket, he pulled out an apple.