"All I wanted was the chance to say

I would like to see you in the morning

Rolling over to have you there

Would make it easy for a little bit longer.

But here, closer every year, so near,

The fear is coming clear,

My dear, the fear is here."

Travis, "The Fear".

He bit back the thought that if Sienna had left messages saying she was angry with him for not calling, he was going to be very pissed… then called the number to listen to them.

The first one was short, almost businesslike, but his trained ears could easily detect the strain under Sienna's apparent calm. "Bobby, it's me, Sienna. Listen, I know last night went horribly wrong, but we really do need to talk, right now. It's urgent. Please call me."

The next message, left an hour after the first, was longer: "Bobby, I understand if you're mad. I really do. But this is more important." She paused and took a breath, and his heart suddenly started to beat faster. "Bobby, they're sending us back to London. You, me and Alex. We were supposed to go together, but they need me back there more quickly than the two of you, so I'm flying out today. Please call me."

She's going back. The thought struck him hard. Sienna was going back to London, away from him… then he dismissed it impatiently. Sienna wasn't going back, all three of them were… why? He held his breath as he listened to the final message.

Sienna's voice was high and tight. "Bobby…" She paused and began again. "Bobby, please. I know you're angry, and I probably deserve that… but please, please, come and say goodbye. Come see me before I have to go back. My flight leaves at six. Please find me at the airport. Please, Bobby..." She broke off, and the message ended.

"Hey, man, what is it?"

"Uhh…" He looked up at Lewis, who was staring at him with some concern.

"It's Sienna..." He wondered if he should tell Lewis anything, but couldn't instantly think of a convincing lie, and settled for a fake version of the truth. "Uhh… she has to go back to London… for work."

"Oh man, again?" Lewis looked weary. "When's she leaving?"

"Uhh…" He looked at his watch, and cursed softly. "In three hours."

"The hell?" Lewis jumped up from the bench he'd been leaning on. "She's leaving in three hours, and you're sitting here?"

"Well…"

"Buddy!" Lewis rolled his eyes. "Get off your ass and into the damn Porsche, 'cause we are leaving, now!"

"What?"

Lewis rolled his eyes again. "Okay. Two years ago, we're in the bar, and you start saying, I wish I'd gone with her to the damn airport, she left thinking I didn't give a fuck…" (He squirmed, suddenly getting a flashback and realising that he must have been even more drunk than he'd thought) "…One year ago, we're in the bar, and you start saying, it's been a year, I wish I'd gone with her to the damn airport, I'll never see her again. This year, she comes back, and you're practically prancin' through the buttercups with happiness! Get in the damn car and go meet her already, 'cause I am not sitting through another year of 'I wish I'd gone to the damn airport!'" Lewis suddenly ran out of breath, looked surprised at himself, and shut up.

"You're right."

"I am? Okay, yeah! Get in the Porsche, gimme a minute to lock everything up, and we are outta here. Oh, and I'm driving."

"You are?"

"Hell yes. Don't take it personally. 'Sides, that way I can pull right up to the door, and you can run out, like Starsky and Hutch." Lewis grinned. "I always wanted to do that."

John F. Kennedy Airport.

Half past four.

I paced up and down, realised I was pacing, and stopped. There was no-one to see, but I had no intention of letting my inner feelings show. All I wanted the nervy eyes of the passengers awaited the delayed BA12893 flight from New York to London was a calm, professional, fearless red-headed woman in a tailored black suit.

For all you know, you might already be being watched by very unfriendly eyes…

I dismissed that as the voice of paranoia. I had good reasons to be afraid, but I had to keep them in perspective if we were all going to get out of this alive. Overestimating my enemy wasn't going to help.

I resisted the urge to sink down into an uncomfortable airport chair and start crying from stress. I was not ashamed of my feelings… but right now I couldn't afford the luxury of letting myself wallow in them.

I'd feared this day would come. In some ways, it was almost a relief when I'd received the call in the early hours of the morning. Officially, of course, it was because we were all needed as soon as possible to help with the ongoing enquiry into the assassination plot at the City of London stadium earlier in the year, and Interpol wanted me to leave early.

Unofficially… don't think about it, Sienna.

In other ways, it was the most god-awful timing. Bobby and I had had a major row at the very time I was going to need all my strength and resources. Instead of being focussed and secure, all I could feel was a nerve-sapping roil of fear, anxiety, and wrenching guilt.

The truth was, I wanted Bobby, right now this minute… and for all I knew he had decided to end our relationship and never speak to me again. No matter how hard I tried to think positive, the knowledge that I'd hit him with the fact that I'd slept with someone he loathed and despised only the night before was shredding my nerves. It was entirely possible that Bobby might decide that our relationship was too traumatic, that he'd had enough turmoil in his life, and that he was going to cut me loose.

I didn't want to believe that. I didn't want to believe that my Bobby would do that… but I had to admit that there was a possibility he might, that my angry words had caused the one thing I most feared.

Correction: one of the two things I most feared, and the first one had already happened.

I looked up at the clock. I had checked in, and should really have gone through security ten minutes ago – I couldn't risk missing this flight – but I wanted to see him so badly. I contemplated calling him again, then forced myself to put the cellphone back in my inside jacket pocket. I wanted Bobby desperately, but if my three messages and numerous calls hadn't reached him by now, they weren't going to.

I wanted Bobby for two reasons, both equally important. Firstly, I wanted him to hold me. I wanted Bobby to hug me and hold me and reassure me that I was loved, that the love of my life still loved me, that I wasn't a complete screw-up.

That didn't mean I wasn't still somewhat pissed about what had happened last night. And, indeed, embarrassed. I really hadn't covered myself with glory there… I should just have told Bobby about Debra's call as soon as it happened, not waited for "the right moment". I'd done the classic thing of feeling awkward and putting it off, then feeling more awkward because I'd put it off… and so on.

And being as possessive of Bobby as he was about you?

Ouch. That thought… was more painful because it was somewhat true. I hadn't slept much last night, and when I had, I'd been awoken by the call telling me I was needed in London ahead of schedule and that Bobby and Alex would follow me in a day's time. Nevertheless, in between cursing and being afraid, I'd found a few seconds to feel rather guilty on the behalf on the anonymous Debra. I'd never met the woman, but I'd been pretty pissed at her for moving in on my territory, which was stupid since it was hardly her fault Bobby hadn't told her we were together again.

I had wondered a few times whether that meant something, whether Bobby was keeping his options open… but no. I couldn't square that level of deceit with my Bobby, the man who had watched his father cheat on his mother and privately vowed never to do the same himself. More likely, he'd just absentmindedly forgotten to call her. I didn't get the impression that their's had been more than a casual relationship, but, nevertheless, I hadn't exactly treated her well by not telling Bobby she'd called. However, there was nothing I could do about that now. Bobby would just have to handle it himself…

I sighed heavily, and thought, assuming he's still interested in continuing to be with you…

I still felt a certain amount of fury about that. Really, what the hell business was it of Bobby's who I called? I didn't go round telling him which of his friends he should stay in contact with! Particularly not if one of them had been shot, nearly killed, and spent an anxious few months fearing he would be permanently crippled.

None of Bobby's friends ever deceived him and got him shot.

I couldn't deny the truth of that, and maybe I should have talked it over with Bobby, but those conversations always took the same form. Me: Drew's not such a bad guy. Bobby: He deceived you and got you shot. Me: He's sorry for it. Bobby: How can you stay friends with someone like that? Someone who lives his entire life manipulating everyone around him? Me: You didn't really know him. Bobby: I know that I wouldn't want to.

And so on. Bobby simply refused to either hear or listen to any suggestion whatsoever that Drew had any good points at all.

Which was understandable, I supposed. Bobby had only ever encountered Drew in a professional setting, where even I would admit that he could be one of the most provoking human beings I'd ever encountered. Whereas Bobby tended to limit that side of his personality to suspects, Drew saw no reason not to use it on everyone else around him. In a twisted way, it made sense. In Drew's line of work, in a world where trusting the wrong person could have swift and fatal consequences, being able to manipulate the emotions of people around you could be a vital tool for survival.

Bobby had never seen the other side of Drew, the man who had visited my bedside nearly every day whilst I'd been recovering from being shot… I knew, I knew, Bobby would say that that was out of guilt. Except that for someone in Drew's position, someone who was supposed to put the need to get results above everything else, to feel guilt over something like that was extremely unusual.

Perhaps I was being naively optimistic, but I really did believe that Drew had changed during the two years I'd known him, from the entirely ruthless agent who would happily have shot Daniel Smith during that operation in Connecticut and lied to me to be able to use me as bait, to someone who had learned to value his friends, even to fall in love.

I was not so stupid as to think that Drew had changed completely. Then again, I no longer needed the people in my life to be perfect, and I owed Drew a lot. To a large extent, the person I was now was the result of Drew – and Tanya's – mentoring.

Perhaps I should simply have let my friendship with Drew go. Perhaps I should have accepted that that was the price of my relationship with Bobby… but no. That would never have worked. I'd have thrown it at Bobby's head in the first serious row we had… and it would have been a stupid idea. I loved Bobby so much, but I was not willing to compromise on doing what I believed was the right thing, not even for him.

I was, however, still kicking myself for opening my big mouth yesterday. Letting Bobby know I'd slept with Drew without giving him the circumstances in which it happened… bad, bad idea. Knowing Bobby, he'd now be constructing all sorts of scenarios about that, none of them good.

Perhaps I was misjudging Bobby. Perhaps he'd remember that Drew had been with Michael for months before he and Alex arrived in London. Perhaps he'd realise that that meant that anything that might have happened between Drew and I was long since history. I hoped so.

Nevertheless… I felt a deep pulse of fear, as the reality of the situation hit me again.

I looked at my watch.

Give it another five minutes, I thought desperately.

The second reason I wanted Bobby was because I was unsure I could cope with what was coming, and I desperately hoped I hadn't lost him for good with what had happened last night.

I wasn't trying to be modest, or underestimate my own abilities, when I said that. I was good at my job, but I was not an agent, or a detective, not someone used to working in the field…

Suddenly, I remembered a conversation I'd had with Drew, just over a year ago. We'd been in a new bar; finding new places and trying them out was an interest both Drew and I shared. This one was in an old converted warehouse near a Tube station in Clapham. It was famous for two things; cocktails, and an enormous roof garden with great views of the surrounding area. We were enthusiastically trying out both, whilst at the same time having an animated discussion about martial arts…

"Drew, I'm sorry, but I'm not at your level, or Tanya's level, and I'm not risking getting my arm broken or my joints dislocated."

"You know, it's not that dangerous… we haven't had someone get seriously injured since last year, and that was an accident."

"Maybe, but the whole point of that level of training is that there is that risk. I just got finished with the rehab for my leg, and I've got a lot to do at work, which I can't do if I get hurt. I'll keep doing the ordinary training, but there's no way I'm coming to the advanced class."

Drew suddenly grinned, his I've just been playing with you grin, and finished his drink. "I know."

I tipped my head on one side. "Really? You're not going to try to persuade me?"

"Nope." Drew slurped the dregs of his drink, and crunched an ice cube. "You don't need that level of training, and you know it, because you, SiSi, are natural chunin." He leaned forward, his face assuming the happy expression it usually did when he was about to expound on an argument.

I had a reasonable smattering of dojo Japanese by now, having known Tanya for some time. I frowned, trying to work it out… "Middle… middle something?"

"Middle man, or, in your case, middle woman." Drew gestured with his glass. "Traditionally, the ninja clans operated a three-tier command structure. First, you had the guys at the top, the jonin. They were the heads of the clan, they made the strategic decisions… who they should work for, which side they should back in a conflict, long-term planning, and so on."

"The Godfathers."

"Exactly; most criminal gangs use this structure too, as you'll know. At the bottom, you had genin, and they were the people everyone thinks of when they think of ninja. They were the foot soldiers."

"Like you?"

Drew grinned, and nodded. "Which makes you chunin, SiSi. The chunin were the men in the middle, who liaised between the jonin and genin. The jonin would decide what needed to be done, the chunin would work out what resources they had available and who should do it, then hand out the orders."

"And your point is…?"

"That you don't need to be able to fight like Tanya or I. You have your own gifts, SiSi, and they are good. You can manage people and resources, and that is not a gift I've ever particularly bothered to master. A good chunin is essential if the whole organisation is going to work properly. Someone needs to make sure that the field guys have what they need, whilst at the same time getting the results delivered to the guys at the top. The system works best when everyone does what they're good at."

I smiled. "Flattery won't make me forget that it's still your round when we want the next set of drinks."

Drew snorted. "It's not flattery, SiSi. I would trust you if you were above me… as it were." He grinned.

"You can find the innuendo in everything, can't you?"

He smiled with false modesty. "It's another little gift I have."

"So, when do you plan to move on up?" I asked.

Drew frowned slightly. "Hmm?"

"Well, you surely aren't planning on being the guy who takes the orders for the rest of your life? You've said yourself that field agents tend to have a limited career once they got older... when do you plan on being the guy who makes the decisions?"

Drew frowned again, more deeply, then looked up. Those grey eyes made contact with mine, and I think there was some genuine confusion in there, although with Drew it was always a bit hard to tell.

"Honestly, SiSi?" He smiled a little ruefully. "I've never thought about it."

"I find that hard to believe."

His mouth quirked. "I honestly never figured I'd make it this far. Anyway, my round, same again?" He disappeared before I had chance to reply…

Back in the present, I smiled wryly, then the smile disappeared from my face as reality hit hard and fast. The fact was, I agreed entirely with Drew that I was by nature a chunin-type, and thus, by extension, not a genin. Unfortunately, this situation was going to call for very fast thinking by someone with a talent for working in the field, and vast realms of experience.

The fact was, I needed Bobby. I wanted my love, my Bobby, Detective Goren, beside me, so that we could both get through this. At a fundamental level, I wanted Bobby to protect me, but it was more than that.

I believed I knew a way to get all of us out of this alive, but I needed Bobby's help, his advice, his skills and experience, and I desperately feared I'd lost him for good.

I closed my eyes briefly, and repeated to myself that I firmly believed that my love, my Bobby, wouldn't be so petty as to leave me like this just because we'd had an argument. Surely, he'd hear my message and realise I needed him, that this was a situation that needed us to overcome our fears and arguments and work as one.

Nevertheless, he still hadn't returned any of my calls…

I forced myself to glance at my watch, and it confirmed what I already knew. I could wait no longer to go through the security checks if I wanted to be sure of catching my flight, Bobby or no Bobby.

I looked at the people around me, and hoped that I was doing a good job of concealing my feelings. I thought that I was, since their faces didn't reveal any concern out of the ordinary.

This was it, and he wasn't here.

Time to go. Bobby or no Bobby. I collected my thoughts, my briefcase, and my passport and tickets, and headed towards the gate with a heavy heart.

"Wa-HOOO!" Lewis yelled excitedly. "Don't worry, pal, we're gonna be there in no time! We get stopped, you can get me out of any tickets, right?"

He didn't bother to wait for an answer, but changed to the Porsche's highest gear, and floored the gas. The car roared down the expressway, and Bobby involuntarily braced his feet against the floor, gripping the map tightly, but Lewis was a superb driver, weaving through traffic at a pace that would have done a ambulance driver proud.

Ahead of them loomed the gigantic buildings of John F. Kennedy Airport, and he checked his watch once more, despairing. They had encountered a huge amount of traffic earlier; a pile-up on one of the other expressways had caused traffic to spill over across half the major roads in the city, and only now were they beginning to pull clear of it. He almost wondered if he should tell Lewis to stop, Sienna's flight would surely have left by now…

No. The voice inside him was calm, but definite, and he knew in his gut that it was right.

No. This time, I'm doing it right. This time, I try everything to reach her, because I'm not giving up.

Suddenly, they were almost there, Lewis dodging the cars in front of them, dangerously swerving around an airport bus, pulling up with a screech of brakes, and they were there, there ahead of his lay the terminal entrance, and he sprinted from the car, barely remembering to yell "Thanks!" over his shoulder. Where would Sienna's flight depart from? He frantically gazed around, he should remember this, he'd been here often enough… He forced himself to calm down, think rationally, and spotted the sign that indicated the gates for international departures to Europe.

He ran again, long legs pumping, drawing some attention, but not too much, a running man in an airport being no strange sight. He dodged other passengers, shops, stalls, nearly tripping over small children and suitcases as he rounded the corner, and there, there at the end of a long hall was the gate, with no sign of his Sienna, and he realised with a stab of despair that she must have already gone through.

That's it.

No, it isn't.

The voice of determination spoke again, and he ran once more, pounding towards the gate, eyes scanning frantically for a flash of red hair, and there. There it was. Sienna's shapely form emerged from behind the bulky frame of the security staff checking passports, heading in the direction of the queues for the security checks…

He barely paused to think, but instead gathered his strength, and roared "SIENNA!"

Half the airport jumped, and turned to look curiously, but he paid them no heed, focussing only on one person. One person who had stopped walking, who was even now turning, running towards him… He ran, heart pounding, and stopped just before the gate, where the security staff were regarded them both with some concern, and the reality of the situation hit him.

"It's okay, I'm NYPD," he assured them.

"Do you have ID?"

"Uh…"

"I do." Sienna produced her Interpol identity card and waved it with cool assurance, but he, who knew her, could see the desperate joy in her face. "It's okay, he is with the NYPD. We need to speak for a few minutes."

"I'm sorry; I can't let you back through now that your documents have been checked." The man's face was polite, but his tone utterly firm. They could not speak in private…

He didn't care. "Sienna, I'm sorry."

"Bobby, I'm sorry."

They spoke at the same time, and stared at each other, frantic with the urge to reassure, to convince.

"I should never have said that…"

"I should never have done that…"

They stared again, then Sienna took charge of the conversation. "Bobby, I'm so, so sorry, but I have to go. I can't miss this flight… My God, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Sienna… I, uh… I don't know what to say…"

"Do you want us to be together? I know, I know, we only argued last night… but if we could make up, if we could get past that… Bobby, do you still want me?"

"Yes. Oh Sienna… yes, yes, I do want to… to… to keep trying." And he did, he realised, with a fierceness that surprised him.

He had not forgotten what had happened the night before, nor his feelings of anger with Sienna for what she had said, but he knew that, for as long as there was a chance, even a small one, that he and she could make it work, he would do his utmost to see that become reality. This time, he was not giving up…

"Bobby, do you trust me?" Sienna asked urgently.

"What?" He was so caught up in his feelings, the meaning of her words didn't immediately register, and he only understood them as she spoke again.

"Bobby, do you trust me?"

"Yes."

Suddenly, Sienna lunged forward, and he threw himself forward to join her, and they hugged fiercely, hungrily, for long minutes, heedless of the angry stares of the gate guard. As Sienna's arms held him, she murmured fast, urgent words, in his ear, and her words shocked him so much, he pulled back as though she'd touched him with a live wire.

"I mean it, Bobby, and I'm not asking lightly, and I wouldn't ask if I saw any other way. Would you do that for me?"

Her eyes were naked, pleading, and he almost wanted to refuse, afraid of what he saw there…

"Do you trust me? Then that trust needs to start now. Please, Bobby, for all our sakes."

"If you ask me to do it… I'll do it for you."

"That's all I can ask, Bobby. Remember…" She smiled suddenly, a smile of breathtaking sweetness and love that soothed him. "It's you I came back to, and you who I love. No-one else comes close." She turned, her face anguished, but curiously also controlled. "I have to go, Bobby. Follow me and find me as soon as you can."

"I will. Both of us will…"

"I know." She smiled again, this time bravely. "See you in London."

And then she was gone, sucked away into the depths of the airport, going on her own to face what awaited them all.