In his treatment of the older Midii Une of the course of three days Trowa felt himself softening toward her a little, even admiring her. She acted tough and uncaring but that was all nothing but surface bluster; she could be really sweet and very caring; she could also be stubborn, proud, and vibrant. That she loved her family was without question; Trowa could see that she walk through fire and face hell itself to protect them. She was very conscious of her responsibilities towards them, to provide for them, to guard them from harm. Fiercely proud and fiercely independent; Midii was not a woman who lived life by halves. She’d never settle for emptying herself out as he had; if there was an emotion she felt she felt it completely. Her loyalty to her family was utter and complete; her unswerving devotion to duty and her willingness to sacrifice everything, even her own heart and happiness, to the ones she cared about made her the soul of honor. It seemed odd to think of a spy as having a set of principles; but Trowa could not deny, after having gotten to know her a little better, that Midii Une had definite (though unusual) code of honor that she strictly adhered to. If it cost her her life, she’d protect her loved ones. As the eldest, it was clearly her responsibility to provide for her family and no cost she could pay personally would be too great to see it done. Moral right and wrong could take second place to survival; if the occasion arose to choose between doing what was right and honoring her duty to her family, there was no question as to what her choice would be.

<She’s like a lioness,> he thought as he tried to feed her from a bowl of soup and she glared at him and tried to do it herself. <Yes, exactly like a lioness. Out of all the big cats, the lioness is the only one who goes out to hunt and provide for the pride while the male stays at home to guard the cubs. There’s not a single doubt in my mind that if and when her family is threatened she can be fully as fierce as a mother lioness protecting her cubs and every bit as deadly.> She even had the same hair color.

She lived life with drive and ferocity, she lived on hope and she lived with a deep intensity of emotion that Trowa could only see and envy a little. He had slowly destroyed his heart little by little; he had gained some of it back but that wasn’t nearly anything like how Midii lived. She wasn’t a candle, but a bonfire; giving of heat and light for her family to play and dance around. He felt drawn to her with the gravitation of emptiness to fullness, it was said that nature abhorred a vacuum; Midii burst with inner fire and strength and he wanted to know that, part of him wanted what she had, had always wanted it.

<A lioness, my lioness.>

* * *

Midii woke in the dark to the very soft sound of beeping. It was her mobile communicator! Only one person had the number that would establish an open communication link with her out in the field and it was only to be used in dire circumstances. She froze; had something happened at home? Midii listened to for a moment, to ensure that her keeper over in the next room continued to sleep. She would have to keep this quiet.

She slid out of the sleeping roll and crawled to her carisak. Removing her small palmtop she set it up on the low table and sat in front of it.

Her youngest brothers’ face popped up on the screen.

“Hey Sis,” he said. Midii couldn’t see into the background and there was something she didn’t trust.

“Michael, I thought I told you that this number was for emergency use only,” she hissed. “Why are you calling me here?”

 “I know, but the men told us to call you and said that if we didn’t they’d hurt father,” Michael said plaintively, his young face skewed into and expression bordering on tears. “I’m scared sister.”

“Men?” she questioned quietly, hackles rising in alarm. “What men Michael?”

Just then, the worried and fear filled face of her youngest brother was replaced by the urbane, business suit clad visage of a man known only as “Mr. Smith” one of the top ringleaders of the Consortium and someone who had taken a very personal interest in Midii Une from the very beginning.

“Ah, Midii my pet, there you are,” he said genially.

“I’m no-one’s pet and certainly not yours,” she growled in hostile reply. “What do you want with me?”

“Is that any way to greet an old and trusted associate?” he asked lightly, lighting a cigarette and drawing a puff.

“Old, yes; trusted? Not on my life,” she replied, scowling for all she was worth at him. Oh he was an old associate alright, in fact, he’d been there from the very beginning.

“How is my favorite pet spy these days? You’ve certainly been providing well for your family Miss Une. And I must say, I’m quite impressed; I never thought that even you would manage to make enough money to pay off all the accrued interest. Five million credits is quite a tidy sum and you’ve managed to make all that plus keep your family fed and clothed and housed… quite impressive. But I would expect nothing less from our little Midii.”

Midii gritted her teeth at the smug and fatuous condescension in his tone.

“I told you before; I’m nothing of yours. I have the final payment. Give me an account number and I’ll have it transferred; then, you and your associates can take your money, your debt accounts, and your fine Cuban cigars, and shove it.”

Midii couldn’t help but inject a note of triumph (note? Her voice was saturated with it) in her tone as she told Mr. Smith the words she’d been wanting to say since she’d been a very young girl. To be completely honest, she’d wanted to say a whole lot more than that but even now she did not wish to risk angering the powerful thug.

“Now, now Miss Une, that’s no way to talk to an old friend of the family,” he said urbanely.

She almost said “with friends like you who needs enemies?” but curbed her tongue. She was within moments of finally gaining her cherished freedom and she didn’t want to do or say anything to jeopardize that.

“The account number?” she pressed. She just wanted to get it all over with. She wanted her freedom.

“My dear precious little Midii… It seems like only yesterday you were just a sweet-faced little cherub, going out on her first mission. You used to be the best spy we ever had. Even at a young age you had that touch. Once we’d trained that odd, nasty little habit you had of feeling guilty all the time out of you, well; there was just no stopping you.” He smiled that smile of his that was the most creepy-looking hybrid of proud father and shark-like predator that Midii had ever seen. She felt a small shudder threaten at the base of her spine but controlled it.

“I have no interest in a trip down memory lane, Smith. Are you going to take my last payment and leave me and my family in peace or must I deliver it personally?” she demanded.

“Why Miss Une, I’m hurt,” he said affecting a wounded demeanor that was every bit as fake as the rose in his lapel. “First you don’t want to play with us anymore and now you want to get rid of us for good. It’s not nice to abandon your friends like that.”

“You’re not my friends, you tricked my father into debt to you, then later you tricked me into making it bigger. We are, at the very best, business associates but I would prefer the more accurate term of master and indentured servant. Besides, spies don’t have friends.”

“I made you,” he reminded her.

“Yes, you did,” she spat.

“If I wanted I could have you killed without even having to raise a finger.”

“I’m not worth anything alive. You yourself taught me that.”

“Hmmm, perhaps not,” he said idly in a bored tone. Midii was immediately taut as a harpstring with alarm. “But surely you wouldn’t begrudge one tiny little favor before parting ways forever from your old and dear friends. It’s nothing really to a woman of your skills and caliber, you could probably take care of it on your way back home Miss Une.”

Midii silently searched his face with suspicion. He was up to something, and she wasn’t going to like it. He took her silence as a signal to continue.

“One last little spy job, for old times sake.”

“No,” she answered bluntly.

“You haven’t even heard what it was,” he protested.

“It doesn’t matter. I already know I’m not going to like it.”

“Come now little Midii, little pet. Be a good girl.”

“When did you ever get the impression that I’m a good girl?”

Here Mr. Smith took another long drag on his fine cigar and leaned back away from the screen, his posture and body language the kind of sanguine that only comes from having all the cards. He smiled again as he said

“Ah, my dear little Midii; so sweet, so obedient… so loving and protective of her dear, helpless, defenseless, family.”

“You leave them out of this,” she snarled softly in the dark.

“Then I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse,” he chuckled, leaning forward on his hands. “Infiltrate Preventors and get us the information on their movements. They’ve been causing a terrible amount of trouble for us and our allies out in space lately and I’m afraid I’ve had to set my timetable back. Our attempts to get our informants into the upper echelons of Preventors have been unsuccessful. If I knew their next move and where they’re sending their agents I could work around them.”

Midii sat there trembling with suppressed rage, her hands clenched so tightly at both sides of her body that her nails bit painfully into her palms. She wanted to reach inside the screen and rip the man’s head off with her bare hands. She wanted kill him, slash him apart limb by limb with her kodachi. How dare he? For many years, since Une had begun working for them there had been a silent unspoken agreement between them that as long as they continued to get their payments they would never go near her family. Now, that pact was broken. Threatening her family, her last safe haven had been invaded by her enemies. She couldn’t forgive this!

 “Pull a job for you?” she said affecting a mockingly wide-eyed gaze. “Me? I gave that up a long time ago, Smith. I haven’t done spy work in so long I don’t even remember how to do it. I may just end up in the hands of the enemy you know… I hear those Preventors have ways of making people talk.”

“Silence was always your forte Miss Une.”

“What if I were to refuse?” she demanded a trifle defiantly.

Smith smiled coldly and said

“This is a lovely little family you have here Miss Une… It would be a shame if anything were to happen to it.”

“You bastard,” she whispered glaring at him with hatred even as her eyes brimmed with helpless tears. 

<I’ll make him pay,> she swore. <I will burn his world to its very foundations. I’ll destroy everything he holds dear.>

“Midii… Midii Midii, my cute little Midii,” he said over the rushing in her ears. “You wouldn’t possibly be contemplating harming your dear old uncle Smith would you?”

“…” She glared at him.

“My precious jewel of espionage, my flower of betrayers; harming me is the last thing you want to do. For a sure as you do, your dear family will suffer for it. Now do we have a deal?”

Midii glared at him, frozen with indecision. If the man Trowa Barton actually was who he said he was, she’d be repeating their tragic history of betrayal. How could she even think of hurting her Nanashi again? She’d always sworn if she’d had another chance, a way to do it all over again she’d do it differently; figure out a way to stay by his side. But her family…

“I think you need a little coaxing,” said Smith turning to one side. “Oh Darkness? Bring me the boy, the youngest one will do.”

<Michael!> Midii gasped as her world froze. Her cherubic younger brother with his feathery blonde hair and wide blue eyes, who liked to paint the world with beautiful colors and brought her pretty flowers whenever she was home; he was hustled on screen by a muscular man in a body builder shirt. His eyes were wide with fear and he looked pleadingly at Midii on the screen, silently begging “please do something, help me…” There was a click as Darkness flipped opened a long wicked looking knife.

“Such a pretty face,” said Smith. The knife neared her younger brother with slow deliberation.

“Sister… Midii I’m scared! Help me Midii!” Micheal begged desperately as the knife got even closer.

“It’s alright Micheal,” she said decisively. “Call off your man Smith; I’ll do as you ask.”

“Excellent,” he said cheerfully. “I knew you’d be reasonable about this my pet. I look forward to a job well done.”

“Leave everything to me.”

* * *

Midii switched off the communicator and slumped there, tears coursing down her cheeks.

“Dammit,” she whispered hoarsely. “Dammit! I was so close to getting my freedom, so close to leading a normal life and now… Now I’ll never be free. There will always be another job, another favor. I belong to them as surely as if I’d sold them my soul.”

She choked on a sob, trying hard not to cry at the visions of job after job lining up danced before her eyes. Crying was for weak women she had other things to be doing right now.

“Focus,” she ordered herself. Her feelings of helplessness as she realized she’d never be free were burned away by anger. She agreed to take the job but by God she didn’t have to like it. He might be threatening her family, but Midii had more than a few ways to get around the strictures he’d placed on her.

She sat back to plan. If Mr. Smith had seen the look of intense focused anger on Midii’s face right then he would certainly have reconsidered the wisdom of reinstating his ex spy Midii Une to active service.

She couldn’t afford to defy him openly of course, but there were ways and ways she could work around that. First of all, she’d have to get rid of any watchers that were most likely already in place. Smith had said that he hadn’t gotten anyone into the upper circle but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t gotten anyone in at all, merely that they were consigned to menial work. They’d be watching Midii now and reporting back her movements to Mr. Smith, if she did anything suspicious he’d know and likewise harm her family.

<I haven’t even begun to consider how I’m going to make my way into the Preventors in the first place,> she thought. Midii had taken it for granted that she’d be accepted immediately as one of the Elites; but things were not quite so simple.

<The easiest way in would be to use Trowa Barton. He could vouch for my character and for my skills…> Midii shied away from using that approach. If Trowa really was her Nanashi, she wanted to keep him out of this. She didn’t want to hurt him again. Flower of Betrayers, that was her alright; a rose with deadly thorns. If at all possible she wanted to spare him her bad karma. She’d just get it done and over with quickly, he’d never even know she was there. And after she’d finished with the Preventors she’d go after Mr. Smith…

“He deserves everything I’m going to do to him.”

* * * 

Trowa Barton slid quietly away from the cracked sliding door and back over to his bed. He’d seen everything. He’d awoken at the sound of her communicator going off, thinking that it had been his own, but the stirrings in the next room quickly told him that it was not. He’d been about to intrude and ask if everything was alright when he’d been surprised to hear the voice of a young boy confirming her name was Midii Une. It was one of her younger brothers. Not bothering to feel guilty for eavesdropping, Trowa had frozen there, staring through a crack in the door at her back and the screen of her palmtop.

He’d heard everything. They’d threatened her family, she’d taken the job. Midii Une was his enemy once again. But she’d been forced into it, so perhaps she wasn’t truly his enemy.

He felt torn, he’d heard how she’d been forced, how reluctant she’d been. He should be on her side. But his soldier self had identified her as the enemy and insisted on treating her as such. She was the enemy and yet not the enemy.

<I sometimes long for the simplicity of the battlefield,> he thought. There things had seemed so much easier; there were your enemies whom you killed in order to keep on surviving and there was your weapon. A soldier needed nothing else. But a man? A man was different. He understood what it was to be human, he had a place to go home to and people he protected. Trowa the man was warring with Trowa the soldier; arguing that Midii was a victim and as such deserved his protection. Trowa the soldier knew that a spy was the single most dangerous threat to any mission; a spy could mean the difference between success and failure… or life and death. Trowa the soldier felt that Midii Une should be dealt with immediately and decisively, before she could become a problem.

He was still a soldier inside, he was still that nameless boy who had been on the battlefield for as long as he could remember. Battle habits died hardest, and Nanashi had always dealt with all threats in the most expedient manner.

All threats… save one.

Even as he glanced at his gun in its shoulder holster hanging within reach of where he slept, he already knew what his decision was going to be. He couldn’t do it. In the very short time he’d spent with her she’d already become important to him once again. Every soldier instinct within him screamed that he should get rid of her before she brought him, his friends, and the entire Preventors Agency down but he already knew he wouldn’t do it; and he wouldn’t allow anyone else to harm her anymore either. That meant that if he wasn’t going to stop her outright, he’d have to work around her.

Her situation was precarious; there were civilian hostages involved, as well as a major crime ring, not to mention a very clever spy whom he was far from objective about. It was crazy and went against every ingrained instinct for survival… but he was going to do it anyway.

<Oh how the mighty have fallen,> he thought with a little wry amusement. He’d gone from perfect soldier to lovestruck fool in the span of a few days. Pathetic.

<The easiest way to keep one step ahead of her would be to work closely with her and thus monitor her activities,> he thought as he stretched back out onto his pallet. <Hn, I haven’t ever bothered to take a partner before, perhaps it’s time I changed that. Once I have Midii under my wing I’ll be able to keep a close eye on her. I suppose the easiest way to do that would be to bring her along with me. Her credentials as Shadowblade would be impressive enough to the Preventors to ensure her a position as a field agent. If I put a bug in her personal computer I’d be able to keep track of just what information she gets a hold of and how much she sends to this Mr. Smith, then I’d be able to work around that without raising suspicion. If I play this right, Midii might even work as an unwitting double agent; providing information about the enemy and their movements by the information she accesses. I will have to be careful however, if the Committee gets suspicious of her they’ll harm the civilian hostages. With time and assistance I may be able to neutralize even that threat, but it’s going to take more careful planning and maneuvering than I have time for right now.>

It was set then. First objective, get her in. Second objective, have her assigned as his partner. He’d work on keeping ahead of her from there. And as soon as he had a spare moment when she wasn’t here he’d set up the monitoring equipment on her private console and such.

* * *

Midii looked at the ceiling of her flat with water stains running along the length of one of the cracks, a million different possibilities circled around in her head. If she wasn’t going to use Trowa, how was she going to get in as well as ensure herself a place in the upper circle of field agents? The best way to ensure he automatic position would be to pull off something really impressive and use it as an introduction. Midii did like to make a big entrance.

<Go with what you know best,> she decided. This time she wouldn’t be killing them, but the basic work was to be the same; she’d still be tracking them down but now she’d just be drugging them and depositing them on the Preventors front doorstep. She knew of three tough little buggers that the agency had had an interest in for quite some time now and they were all centrally located here in Hanjok for her convenience. One was a small-time thug who had big-time ambitions, normally it wasn’t the kind of thing she or the Preventors would get involved in, but this one was said to have more than average information about certain activities on the Black Market and the raids along the Spacer Trade Routes. Target’s name: Spencer Drift. Alias: Drifter. The second potential mark was a bit of a mad scientist. He was supposedly creating biological weapons for the Barton Army in the year 195; it was well known that the Barton Family was a lot less scrupulous than Treize Kushrenada had been. Target’s name: Doctor Doyle Weston. Third candidate was a slippery little smuggler who had escaped every single attempt by the Preventors to pin him down with evidence. It might take a few days Midii was sure that she was more than up to the task.

<Too bad I’m going to miss out on their bounties,> she thought with a little regret. Sure, the likely Preventors salary she was going to get for it was going to make up for the loss but Midii just hated being coerced! Nothing she could do about it now; the guards that were already in place would be expecting an attack and would be watching out very carefully. She’d have to go along with the Consortium for now, at least until she could figure out a way to rescue her family.

* * *

“I guess this is where we part ways Trowa Barton,” Midii said, standing outside the train station in Hanjok.

“Guess so,” he replied. In the additional day he’d spent with her she’d made a full recovery. Apparently the poison was slow to relinquish its grip, but once it was beaten it faded out quickly.

“Safe journey then,” she said a little awkwardly. “Thanks for all of your help.”

“Anytime,” he replied. After a small pause he said “Would you like to come work with me?”

Midii looked up at him and blinked in surprise. She looked sorely tempted for a moment, but then shook her head.

“Nah, not just yet,” she said. “But I’ll probably show up in a little while, so I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for you then,” Trowa murmured, a little mystified as well as privately delighted. Something inside of him was very pleased that she wasn’t going to use him as an easy way in. While this might make things a little more difficult he was glad she hadn’t gone that route. He was almost half tempted to bend down and kiss her cheek in goodbye, but she was already turning to walk away. Likewise Trowa turned, slung his single carisak over his shoulder, and headed over to his terminal to catch a train back to headquarters.