Arise small body, puppet-like and pale, and go,

White as the bed-clothes into bed, and cold as snow,

Undress with small, cold fingers and put out the light,

And be alone, hush'd mortal, in the sacred night,

After Prayers, Like Cold- CS Lewis

Collapse, for Katia, was not an outward display of thrashing and violence. It was a quiet implosion, invisible and unheard from the outside world. The images she'd been able to push down as she fretted, ludicrously, over falling for Holden, blew up like a ball of fire: the man on the mountainside, tumbling down the cliff; the men she'd shot in the back, even as she was still wishing that Holden had done what he was about to do; the throat she'd stabbed without flinching, the boy she'd held in her arms as he died, his blood staining her, staining her forever. These were the scenes that blazed through her mind, burning away the remains of her sanity. And the image of Samoon, dead in his mother's arms, was the spark that lit the fuse.

When it was over, nothingness overtook everything, so that every action became automatic, and there were no words. She was in the darkness, and she could not see a way out.

She helped Bear into the helicopter, then strapped herself in to her seat. She did not look again at the village.

When they reached the compound at Gardez, they were this time showed not to a tent, but to two-person rooms in a large building, where they changed into clean clothing and showered quickly. Then they were herded directly to Manning's meeting room, where they debriefed their superiors on what had occurred, everything from the fight on the mountainside, to the attack in the village, not missing a single detail. Colton provided most of the narrative, with Kellen breaking in on several occasions, adding excited details. Track mumbled something about how he'd killed two insurgents on the mountain. When it was over, she was aware of Jackson's and Manning's eyes trained solely on her. The way they'd spun the story, it was her actions that had been the bravest, the most reckless, and the most necessary to survival. She knew they were doing this for her benefit; to make her seem a useful addition to the team. She genuinely did not care.

"Is this true?" Manning asked her. "Did you run through enemy fire to take out their rocket launcher?"

She lifted her eyes to him, but said nothing.

"She doesn't speak much," Jackson said. "It's nothing personal."

Actually, it is, Katia thought.

"It is true," Martin spoke for her. "Her bravery saved us on the mountainside, and she was the one who warned us against the insurgents in the village. She used herself as bait to give Omega-one and the Kappas a good shot, and then she took out most of the rest."

Katia blinked, wondering why Martin was embellishing her insufficient efforts.

"Regardless, all of this does not detract from our original mission. We've had a setback, losing ten of our best men," Jackson said to Manning. "We're able to bring in twelve replacements who will be arriving with King in the next two days. We hope to strike in three days time."

"Don't bother," Manning cut him short. "We've already contracted an elite team from Alectron Corporation. You may keep your elite team on the mission, but you'll have to work with them."

Jackson frowned. It was the most emotion Katia had ever seen from him. "Do you have profiles on the contractors?"

Manning shoved a portfolio across the table, and Jackson flipped through it quickly. He stared in confusion. "Exeter will be there as well?"

"He wants to be on the ground to ensure the operation runs smoothly. Something that your group has not had much luck with recently," Manning snapped.

Jackson put one hand under his chin in consideration. After a moment's silence, he closed the portfolio, his face becoming impassive. It was the opposite reaction that Manning had expected from his dig.

Manning cleared his throat. "Secretary of State Harper has decided to pay a visit to Gardez. He should be arriving tomorrow."

"May I ask what regarding?" Jackson feigned surprise.

Manning lifted his thumb to al-Shehi, who was sitting dutifully in the corner of the room. His eyes roved curiously over the Paragons, but this was not unusual. "He wants to be there when you take down Monsoor. It will be the first high-profile terrorist they've managed to pull down. In terms of military objectives, Monsoor is second only to Bin Laden."

Jackson narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It occurred to Katia that perhaps Jackson was truly surprised that Harper was going to show up. "Is it necessary for him to be here?"

Manning's brow furrowed quizzically, "It's for the Secretary of State to decide whether it's necessary or not."

Attempting to seem mollified, though clearly seething, Jackson nodded. Katia vaguely wondered if he was worried about what repercussions might befall him due to the mishap. Perhaps that was why he seemed anxious about Harper's arrival. Jackson took up his laser pointer and used it to highlight a blueprint on the screen. "The plan goes exactly as we initially intended. The only difference will be the changing groups, and under Manning's request, we've added two military groups." He marked four X's next to the ones where their original teams were meant to attack.

"With all due respect," Colton cut in, and Katia turned to him in sheer surprise. He swallowed, realizing he'd interrupted, but continued. "We've not seen satellite images of Monsoor in five days. We're not certain he's even at the camp anymore."

Jackson's brow furrowed and he sat down. He looked at Colton dubiously. "Are you suggesting he would have been tipped off to our plans?"

"I'm suggesting that it seems strange how our convoy was attacked within half an hour of leaving Kabul. And it seems stranger still that there is a terrorist training camp within thirty miles of a major American military base."

Manning nodded. "I agree. We should be certain he's still there."

Jackson, whatever he thought of the Paragons, did not argue with their logic. They were too good at what they did. He assented. They all stood to go, when Jackson held up his hand. "Omega-two, stay a moment. I'd like to speak with you."

There was an uneasy silence, but knowing they couldn't very well object without raising Manning's suspicions, the others filtered out. She locked eyes with Holden for a moment, and tried to seem unconcerned.

Jackson was still sitting in the empty conference room, and he motioned for her to sit down. She remained standing. His mouth set into an angry line. "You did well in the field, Omega-two, better than anyone could have expected."

If he was expecting her to thank him for the unwelcome compliment, he would be disappointed.

He smiled. "Do you like it?"

Her eyes flashed.

"You ought to," he said. He placed three familiar photographs in front of her. "You ought to like it, for them."

Katia reached out and touched her mother's face, wondering how Valentina might react if Katia liked war.

"I have a job for you." He took a photograph from the portfolio that Manning had given him, and pushed it in front of her. The man was maybe in his late forties, with strange ochre eyes and short, tightly curled black hair. His dark skin glowed strikingly against his navy suit. He didn't look particularly kind or cruel or generous or venal. He was just a face in a photograph. She looked from the face to Jackson, her heart pounding at what she suspected he might ask of her. "He'll be on the mission with you. I need you to ensure that he doesn't come back."

Katia swallowed back the bile in her throat. "Who is he?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does to me!" She retorted, her voice rising angrily.

Jackson let his eyes fall to the photographs briefly, before looking sternly back at her. "There is no room for questioning orders, Omega-two. You complete them without asking why."

She understood, then, that this was less about who this man was, and more about Jackson testing her. He could have asked any of them to get rid of this man, but he was asking her specifically. He wanted to know that she would kill not only to save herself, but to further the company. He wanted her unreserved obedience.

Katia closed her eyes and forced herself to keep her voice even. "And if I refuse?"

"It's your choice," Jackson answered as he pushed the photograph of her father next to the picture of the man she would kill. Her choice was between the anonymous man, and her father. When she searched inside herself, she knew that she would kill the anonymous man. But she didn't know what would be left of her when she did.

A light cut through the darkness in which she had dwelt since leaving the village, and suddenly she saw the way out. She was standing on the edge of a cliff, and before her was the solution she'd been too cowardly to consider: the only way out was down. She nodded. "I understand."

"Good," Jackson replied. "Take the photograph. You're dismissed."

Katia tucked the photograph into her jacket, stood up slowly and walked out the door. The light was bright as day, unveiling her past misstep and the inevitable path to correction. She'd been too ready to preserve her own life at the cost of others. But her life was worthless if it was only as a dealer of death.

The harsh beam of clarity illuminated a solitary truth: no matter how well she did, no matter how many men she killed for them, they were never going to stop threatening the ones she loved. It was never, ever going to stop. The only way that Katia could ever keep them safe was not to exist at all.

It took her several hours to formulate her plan. Luckily, Holden was still feeling too guilty to touch her. He hovered protectively, but never came close enough to see what she was planning. By the time Katia finished dinner, she'd decided. It had to be tonight, because she wasn't sure how long Holden's guilt would last. She also wanted to be kind, and to leave as little as possible for them to clean up. She couldn't use a gun, because it would be too messy. Drugs, also, would cause her to vomit. Katia ate nothing at dinner, knowing that whatever she put in might come up. She caught the gleam of the knife in Cassius' boot, and she knew what weapon she would use.

After dinner, she walked slowly down the corridors where she saw the boys playing Halo in the games room. It reminded her of afternoons in Ethan's basement, and something stirred within her. This was her chance.

"Katia, get in here!" Frankie called, dissuading her from her course.

She hesitated.

Only for a moment, she promised herself, and slipped into the room.

"So how did you guys not get attacked?" Colton was asking the Epsilons, a hint of irritation in his words.

"Well, we did, actually." Cass grinned like it was funny. "It was fucking weird, too. They didn't try to shoot us or anything. They tried to capture us."

"Really?" Colton leaned forward in interest. "How did they try to do that?"

Samson, suddenly angry, allowed himself to be distracted from the game. "They tried to net us, like animals."

Cass explained further, "We ran over spikes in the road, and our tires bust. Then we went out to see what was going on, and I kid you not, they launched a net over us. By the time we got untangled enough to aim our guns, they'd surrounded us. They kept yelling at us in broken English, holding their hands out like they were dealing with lions."

Holden had been sitting on an overstuffed armchair in the corner, purposefully averting his eyes from Katia. He spoke up, his eyes curious. "What did you do then?"

"Shot them, obviously," Cass shrugged. He sighed, like it was a regrettable incident. "We were yelling back at them, telling them to stand down, but they kept coming closer. One held up his gun, and that started it. I don't like shootouts like that. They don't feel fair. But I kid you not; they were treating us like zoo animals. It was weird."

It was strange. Almost strange enough to deter Katia from her plans until she could solve the mystery. Almost, but not quite.

"Katia," Frankie called to her. "We need you to settle a debate for us."

She nodded, and waited for him to go on.

"You see, Samson seems to think that laser guns are the wave of the future," he gestured to the television. Samson's gun was indeed shooting blue waves of an ethereal substance at enemies. His tongue was stuck out in concentration as he took them down. "But I genuinely believe that our fear of laser guns is misguided. I mean, what's wrong with regular bullets? They seem to do the trick just fine."

"Unlimited ammo," Samson pointed out as he shot down another foe.

Frankie shook his head, not to be outdone. "And what are we going to do with laser guns? First of all, they're pretty much the most underwhelming weapon on Halo, as you can see." Just at that moment, Samson's character fell, and Colton took over with a grin. "But more importantly, what are we really going to do with them?" From his pocket, Colton produced a laser pointer, obviously stolen from Jackson. "Blind people? I don't even think it would do that."

He pointed the laser at Samson, who yelled, "Get that thing away from me!"

"See?" Colton grinned at her, entirely pleased with himself. "A completely irrational fear. Do you know a single person blinded by a laser pointer? Even in reality, a laser's power is underwhelming. So, what's your opinion, laser or classic?"

Katia sat down beside Cass, pretending to consider the debate. She hoped the future was a world without weapons designed to kill. Feeling Holden's eyes on her, Katia finally allowed herself to look at him. Despite everything, she was glad to have met him. The thought of that brought a real smile to her face, and she turned to Frankie.

She shrugged. "I believe in progress."

Just not progress for her.

"That's not an answer," Frankie frowned.

"There's a movie playing in the common room," Colton invited, glancing up from his game. "You should come."

They presented her with the perfect opportunity. Katia would have liked to laugh with Colton and Frankie, would have liked to sit close to Holden and feel the heat of his arm next to hers. Her happiness couldn't come at the cost of other's lives, though. She smiled. "It's all right. I wouldn't mind some time alone."

"Suit yourself," Colton replied, but there was no offense in his tone.

Suddenly, Cass was yelling at the screen, and the boys turned their attention to whatever virtual feat Colton was accomplishing. They all jumped up, even Holden, and in that moment, Katia slipped out of the room.

She shut the door behind her. This was the worst part, that she would have to kill herself in the room she shared with Holden. But the bathtub was the most suitable choice. It would be clean, and they would find her quickly. Katia didn't want them to have to search for her body; that would be cruel. Unzipping her jacket, she pulled out the photograph of the man she was to kill. Katia had no idea who he was, but it didn't matter. They would not bind her. She would not lose herself.

It was with potent remorse that Katia finally appreciated the script that had so long hung over her head. Placing the photograph facedown on the bedside table, Katia picked up a pen. On the back of the photograph, she wrote a single word. It was the only word with any meaning. Flipping it over, face up, she hoped that Holden might understand.

Katia went into the bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the cold water. They all carried knives on them; strapped to their trousers as a part of their uniforms. Reaching down, she gripped the leather hilt and freed the curved black blade from its sheath. By her hand, this knife had killed a man.

She stripped down to her underwear, and sat in the freezing water. At the last moment, she would pull out the drain plug, so that he did not arrive upon a scene of her floating in her own blood.

Taking the knife in her right hand, she dragged it deeply along the length of her left forearm, gasping a little as the pain seared through her. Fumbling, she transferred the knife to her other hand. The pain intensified as she tried to clutch it, and the knife was slippery with blood. For one anxious instant, Katia worried she wouldn't have the strength to cut the other. Then she saw the tattoo on her skin.

P/O MBB: W 2

She sliced right through it. The knife clattered to the floor.

Lying back, Katia remembered the men she'd killed. She didn't really think she would see them again, that there would be some sort of heaven or hell beyond this life. Oblivion was a welcome place to rest. Katia didn't know if their deaths were right, or justified, or tipped the world in towards or away from a balance of good or evil, or anything like that. As she lay there bleeding, she found that it didn't matter. Katia only knew that she could not be forced to kill one more person. She would no longer be a participant in this meaningless world of death and loss and pain. She would no longer pose a threat to her enemies or a risk to her loved ones.

Their faces presented themselves: her father and mother, Irina, Ethan and Joe, James. It was possible they already accepted her death, and that would be good. They were prepared for it. They were better off without her. If she was gone, they would have no reason to threaten them anymore. Holden would not be prepared, and she knew he would be upset, angry with her, even. For a while. But he would move on, eventually.

Her breath was becoming fast and soft, and it frightened her. When she thought of Holden, she almost wanted to wrap her arms and stop the bleeding. If she was honest with herself, there were times when being with Holden was the happiest she'd ever been. He understood her, and he'd made her understand herself better. A part of her wished that she'd told him the truth; about how he made her feel, how she felt about him, but largely she was grateful that she hadn't. To tell him that, when she had no choice but this, was selfish and unkind. She thought of how distracted they'd been in the cave, and how that had caused Samoon's death. It was better this way.

Consciousness was floating away from her, and it felt nice to be lying in this cold water. It almost reminded her of home. With the last of her strength, she pulled out the drain. She became aware of a pounding noise, and thought that maybe it was her heart, and with each beat, she thought she could hear him calling her name. As the darkness took her, she hoped that maybe, if there was something beyond life, he would be there too.

*****

Holden didn't feel like playing Halo. He watched the others take their turns, feeling guilty and anxious. He wondered what Jackson had said to her. There was something wrong with Katia, but he hadn't touched her again, knowing how badly she felt it was her fault that Samoon had died. It was both of their faults, and though both carried the guilt like a load, her shoulders were smaller, and less accustomed to the weight of it.

He considered going to speak to her, to accept the blame of it, to say something that might ease the burden. But he couldn't speak to her, because he had no idea what to say.

Holden followed the others out to the recreation room, where some absurd movie was supposed to be playing. He understood why they wanted to immerse themselves in unreality, but his mind was too preoccupied by this unfamiliar problem. As they walked across the compound, he noticed Apollo relaxing on a lawn chair. The Delta looked a little pleased, like he'd just been up to something wayward.

"I'll catch up with you later," he waved off Colton, and went to sit beside Apollo.

Apollo nodded at him. "Looking for wisdom?"

"Had a nice date?" Holden returned snarkily.

"Very," Apollo replied smoothly, entirely unperturbed. "I feel like there are more gay men here than there are women, and then of course, a lot of the women are gay too. I feel sorry for you straight ones."

"That's statistically improbable," Holden pointed out.

"True," Apollo answered. "But the gay men definitely seem to be getting more action. No one, gay or straight, is supposed to be hooking up on the base, right?"

"Right," Holden answered, willing to play along with Apollo's absurd theorizing if he could receive his wisdom later.

Apollo grinned. "But centuries of being pushed into the closet have made our people very resourceful with that closet. We're very sleuth. Hence, more action."

"You are the only gay man willing to go out and take those risks, and they can't resist you, because you're so damned beautiful. Do you think any straight man would be able to resist Iris, if she came onto them, out here in the middle of the literal – and figurative – desert?" Holden questioned in exasperation. Philosophy was Apollo's idea of fun, and Holden was not in the mood. He also did not care either way who Apollo wanted to fool around with. It didn't change whether or not he could do his job. "And besides, you're not a separate people. You fight the same enemy, you're from the same place, and you hold essentially the same values. I thought that was the definition of a 'people.'"

Apollo was smiling throughout Holden's defence, but as he leaned back on his chair, a more serious pondering reigned. "Tell that to the guys who run this place."

"Just be careful," Holden warned quietly.

Apollo sighed, interlocking his fingers behind his head as he resumed his study of the stars. "I always am."

A sudden chill of wind bit his eyes as he looked out over the mountains of Gardez. "Do you think we feel like them?"

Apollo looked over. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you think we're capable of the same emotions?"

"As humans?" Apollo laughed. "We may be perfect, but we are still human. Of course we feel the same as them."

"How can you be sure?" Holden demanded of the laughing cherub.

Apollo turned his head and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "I'm owned by one of the most socially conservative companies in the country. If I didn't feel as a human does, I would probably 'be careful' and not act on my... tendencies. But how we feel is not a choice, Holden." He turned his chair towards Holden and leaned forward. "What's this about, anyway?"

Holden leaned back on his chair. "Nothing."

"Katia," Apollo said, understanding immediately. He remained silent for a while, before finally asking with forced amusement, "Is it her lovely hair?"

"Your hair," Holden reminded him.

"Which is precisely why it's lovely." Apollo touched his hair absently. His was shorter, and he washed it more frequently than she, but it was the exact same hue and thickness. "You haven't told her about that, have you?"

Holden shook his head. "I won't be able to keep it from her much longer."

Apollo let out a long breath. "Are you in love with her?"

Closing his eyes, Holden considered the word. "I don't even know what that is."

"They say that if you are, then you know."

He knew. "It would complicate things."

"With a mind such as yours, anything less than complicated would be boring," Apollo said.

"I don't even know what to do about it," Holden admitted, his back hunching forward as he rubbed his face in defeat.

"They say that honesty is the best policy," Apollo replied. He was beginning to sound like a radio clip.

Holden turned his head to him. "Do you have a single piece of your own advice for me?"

Apollo was silent for so long that Holden sat up impatiently. Apollo's lips were pressed together in thought, and he seemed conflicted. After some time, he looked up at Holden, his gaze probing. "What is it about her?"

He hadn't expected that question, but there was something about the way Apollo was looking at him that demanded an answer.

He thought of all the things he saw in her: the unflinching bravery, the unquestioning compassion, the smile, the laugh, the fierce and overwhelming good. He saw flaws in her too; he knew they were there, but he almost loved those as well. None of those were the reason, though. "There isn't any one thing. It's just... her."

Apollo interlaced his fingers over his knees, and seemed to consider them for a long time. Finally, he looked up at Holden. "Go and talk to her. The more you try to hide it, the more likely it will end in miscommunication and sorrow. She'll figure it out, anyway- we both know that's inevitable."

Holden looked at him, wondering how much he knew. Apollo gave nothing away. He stood and nodded. "Okay."

Apollo caught his arm. "She doesn't need any more sorrow, Holden. Not from you."

With that in mind, he went back to the room, his chest so full of air that he seemed unable to exhale. His palms were sweating, and he realized, for the first time in his life, that he was nervous.

Pushing open the door, Holden called her name. There was no answer. He turned on the light, and saw a photograph on the table. He picked it up. He knew the man. He knew his daughter better. The photograph was slightly uneven, and he could see the writing through the other side. He flipped it over, and as he read the single word, everything became clear in his mind.

INVICTUS

He turned, a feeling of dread slowly building in the pit of his stomach, and saw that the bathroom door was closed. Striding over to it, Holden pushed on the knob, but it was locked. He snapped, pounding on the door, shouting her name in his fear, her real name.