This is a follow on to Luciana. It would help if you've read that.
Can someone who is not who they were be trusted? Will retracing your steps 
solve anything, when nothing is the same... and should you try? It is not 
always possible to walk away even if you want to. The past is always there.
There is some darkness, violence and general nastiness... so as before, be 
forewarned.
Apologies if the Italian phrases are not exactly correct. Blame Google.

This is a work of adult fiction.                                                
No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright KLS 2007.

                           Joanna

                                         By Kristina.L.S.

Prologue

... Closure A simple word, but pathetically inadequate when placed against 
the pain and suffering it was meant to assuage. Did it mean anything when 
measured against individual suffering? Almost certainly not. It was a word 
that was tossed about by those that had no empathy, or even remote 
understanding of what it was supposed to represent. A pithy and useless 
expression of the generally accepted, '...well that's finished, so get on 
with it'. Utterly useless and insensitive. But it fitted with a 90 second 
grab on the evening news.
 
Pain as Jo knew very well had few limits. Time might soften the effect, but 
it did not end it. Only death could do that. The ultimate defeat. No one 
escaped. It was only a question of when you surrendered or were defeated. But 
then there was the possibility that that very surrender could be welcomed 
with open arms as the alternative became impossible. To live, a generally 
accepted imperative, excepting religious zealots. The fact that almost all 
religions decried suicide or martyrdom as non-doctrine was irrelevant. If you 
chose to believe... it was true. The problem was Jo no longer knew whether 
what she believed was what 'she' believed.   

And so she sat on the large flat rock 30 metres from her own back door and 
looked at the relatively simple mechanical device that could expel a steel 
projectile at more than 700m per second into her brain and thus STOP... 
everything.  

A simple squeeze to the point that a given pressure was established and the 
mechanism released, dropping the metal point of the hammer against the centre 
point of a metal cartridge igniting the contained mixture of powdered 
chemicals. 

And so... perhaps not quicker than thought... but quick enough... perhaps... 

The silky black head that insinuated it's way under her right armpit, closely 
followed by the soft warm tongue licking her cheek pulled her thoughts back 
to something resembling sanity. She sucked in breath with a choked off sob 
mingled amidst the inhale. Her eyes lifted to the sky across the shadowy 
treetops and she guessed it was around 4.30. There was just the faintest 
tinge of light to indicate dawn was approaching. She hefted the Sig and 
weighed it in her hand, sighed again and headed into the house. She emerged a 
few moments later wearing a crop top, old track pants and seemingly older 
runners.

As the just visible dog danced and spun in anticipation she stretched for a 
few minutes and then with a soft, "Come on Sab, let's see if a run will chase 
away the ghosts", headed slowly at first down the path and picking up speed 
began a familiar circuit.   

1.

It was a cool spring evening and her clothes were not particularly conducive 
to keeping warm. They had one purpose, to attract potential punters. The 
3inch heels, short flirty skirt and tight lycra top were for the viewers 
benefit, not the wearers. Joanna paced the small stretch of 'the wall' that 
she had been allotted and swore under her breath. This was not what she had 
expected when Justin had convinced her to rejoin the team. This was not what 
she did. A lowly street hooker con game. Shit, this was rookie stuff. Some 
raw kid straight from the academy wanting to get a foot in the undercover 
door, that's who should be standing here. Not her. What galled even more was 
the assumption by 'the powers that be' that 'she' was perfectly suited for 
this case. 

Jo snorted quietly as she remembered Justin's face as he laid out the sting. 
As he became more flustered and embarrassed as she became more angry and 
embarrassed. As he, almost, apologised for putting her in this situation. 

Shrugged, he had no choice. Nor did she if she wanted back in. Implicit was 
the higher ups distrust of 'her'. It was plain without being said that 'the 
powers that be' were not sure she could be trusted, at all. She was not who 
she was. She had been under 'outside control' for nearly a year. She, was, 
not, who, she, was. Who knew what she would do in a given situation. She had 
to prove herself.  

And that was where her anger dissipated. If the truth be known she was not 
all that sure either. It had been 6 months since she had been 'repatriated' 
and the whole surrealistic situation would have had her scoffing... had she 
not lived it. The nights were the worst. Bec had been, understanding... at 
first. It was not as if she had not tried to adjust to Joanna. She had done 
everything anyone could expect and then some, but...

Her mind drifted to a night a few weeks ago. The wee small hours when demons 
walked and those without hope gave up... as always the realisation of another 
in the bed...Pete smiled to himself and stretched as the ultimate spontaneous 
expression of male lust and given the 'other presence' love, intermingled 
with desire so that one was indistinguishable from the other. As he revelled 
in the rampant expression of that desire, felt the tension of his thrusting 
member almost demanding accommodation; he began to reach to gently rouse...  

...and that was when reality intruded and 'she' stumbled from bed, shaking 
and drenched in fear. Sobbing with loss and an inexpressible anguish at what 
would never be again. Memory as painful as a hot iron pressed to tender 
flesh. How did you fight your own mind? Did 'she' even own her own thoughts 
anymore? It might seem a ridiculous question, but in her case, perhaps not. 
Bec had done all any one person could do. She had comforted and held tight as 
sobs wracked the tall muscular woman... but after a dozen, twenty, fifty such 
nights she had crept to another room and tried to sleep. And though that had 
hurt more than any dream or remembered pain, could anyone blame her. Jo most 
certainly could not.

During the day though things were different it was not that big a thing. 
Minor differences in clothing; underwear that no one would see. Make up; a 
pain, but accepted as necessary for 'appearance' sake almost despite the 
subconscious urge to be... perfect. Subtle changes in others perceptions and 
expectations. Feelings, modes of expression. Different, but not that far from 
what had been. 

But at night, when she slept, battle would commence.
 
In truth she no longer knew what was her and what had been imposed. Even 
looking back at what had gone before, decisions and unquestioned choices now 
were filtered through a; is this really me or..., type process. And as she 
had been told by Dr Franklin, that way lay madness and destruction. But even 
he had admitted to not fully knowing, let alone understanding what 'Pete' had 
gone through. Talked about post-traumatic stress and pondered various 
medications, something Jo railed against. But facts had to be faced. Pete no 
longer existed. Either Joanna acknowledged a different reality or succumbed 
to a self-imposed purgatory and that lead to madness or self destruction. 
Should that occur... 'they'... 'SHE', would have won. No second prize she 
sniffed unconsciously, with a self-mocking sneer. 

Her thoughts were dragged back to the present as the 'girl' she suspected was 
behind the robbery set ups lead a slightly nervous business type into the 
small Private Hotel that 'provided' the facilities, namely a bed and a 
bathroom. There were several 'suites' that the girls used. Jo shadowed and as 
soon as she was sure which room they were headed for made the signal to the 
two back ups in the car down the block and followed up. If this followed the 
MO they had figured out through interviews with 'victims' there would be a 
few minutes discussion to work out the details of what and how much, after 
the initial contact outside. 

Occasionally at this point the punter got cold feet or was too cheap and it 
ended there. It was as she hung his jacket in the walk in robe that she would 
lift his wallet and scan any ID, cards and licence and as he poured a drink 
or got comfortable on the bed she would also make impressions of any keys she 
found while theoretically touching up the lippy. This was not essential, but 
it did help confuse the issue if there was no 'break in'. Just a robbery or 
maybe an insurance scam? Cops being suspicious types liked simple greed as a 
motive. Whether a thief or the supposed victim was often the first question 
they asked themselves. 

The team had already done their work and every move in that room was covered 
by 6 separate cameras simultaneously recorded on a split screen with each 
able to be pulled up and viewed as desired. This time they were ahead of the 
game and once they had the 'film' evidence they could appraise the punter and 
gently coerce him into cooperating with them setting up the same surveillance 
in his home. Then... seldom more than a few days later this could be wrapped 
up. All bar the legal crap of lawyers and trials anyway. Dot the I 's and 
triple cross your T's and hope nobody farted at the wrong moment and gave 
some slimy creep a chance to say... 'see, it was all a set up'.  But that 
wasn't her job. It was end-phase for her involvement. Three weeks of 
strutting around and picking up other cops, who usually didn't manage to hide 
the smirk, to keep her cover as she studied the layout and narrowed the field 
to this point, sting time. After tonight... once more. To make an arrest. A 
small dot on the urban landscape, a point of difference that might make it 
worthwhile. Assuming everything else went as it should.  

Regardless of her thoughts on the why's of what she was doing in this 
instance, there was still that buzz of entering enemy territory unseen and 
unknown. Blending and observing, making it possible for the rest of the team 
to do their thing and ultimately catch the bad guys. Small time in this case, 
but still worthwhile. She snorted again, ' ...sure just tell yourself that 
you make a difference. Soon you'll be back at the top', as she made sure that 
everything went to plan. Everyone was where they should be. She made her way 
out, brushing past a would-be suitor with a leery, "...sorry lover I've got 
an appointment". She signalled that all was a go and headed away to the 
rendezvous, a small café two blocks away.  
 
She sat and sipped a cappuccino and ignored the contemptuous looks of the 
conservative matrons at a nearby table. It was almost an hour later as she 
sat daydreaming that Justin sat opposite and smilingly nodded and confirmed 
that all was well. With a sigh she nodded back and they headed out. She 
grabbed his elbow as he turned to respond to a rather cutting remark from one 
of the 'ladies' regarding sluts and their conquests. They drove back to 'the 
office' in near silence and then with minimal conversation and a short 
dictated de-brief she changed clothes and headed home. Once again she over-
road the desire to stop and get a bottle to anaesthetise the night. 

Bec was not home when she got there and she was angry at herself for the 
slight relief that knowledge gave. Another wave of self induced contempt 
washed her as she shut off and flicked the stand on the old Honda 500. 'Self 
pitying cow, get it together or you'll lose the best... maybe only chance at 
being happy...'.  As she pulled off the helmet Sabina surged into view and 
danced in circles until she knelt and received the obligatory licking and led 
the way inside.  It was little after 8 and the last of the suns rays were 
hanging in the air as she set about prepping a light meal for the 3 of them. 
It would be another hour before Bec got home. Salad and Tuna for her and Bec 
and a rice, Science Diet, trim off cut mix for Sab. Then breaking all the 
'head of the pack rules' fed Sab hers and sat and half watched half 
daydreamed as she ate. 

2.

The half formed desire, need, to return to work had caused more than a bit of 
friction. Bec was terrified of losing Jo to that amorphous entity she had 
worked for. A shadowy offshoot of the Federal police that demanded complete 
obedience and loyalty to any that chose to serve. Strange hours and often 
extended 'tours', that wrought havoc with any home life that might exist. 
That alone was enough for Bec to fear. But the burden of knowing what had 
come because of that devotion, impacting Bec and 'Pete' to twist and abuse 
their lives without a backward look and then show suspicion... almost 
contempt at 'her' desire to continue with what she knew. What she knew she 
was very good at.  That lack of trust burned and yet...

There had been no overt displays of anger or threats of departure. At first 
Bec had been supportive, even happy. This after all was what Pete had done 
for years before they had met. So despite some trepidation caused by 
'history' she was happy when Jo had finally said yes to Justin and gone 
through the various tests and evaluations to rejoin that small group that had 
been her life for many years. But the incremental feeling of isolation and 
mistrust, fear even of what had befallen a comrade, had slowly eroded Jo's 
joy at being accepted back. Slowly Bec had almost against her will come to 
detest that which had in the past sustained Jo. And for Jo the gradual slide 
into a meek acceptance of a 'lesser' role grated and against her will Bec had 
borne the brunt of it. Discrimination, glass ceilings, subtle condescension 
had all been hypothetical theories... until suddenly you found yourself on 
the wrong side of the fence and had to live it.   

Even Justin, her closest friend within the agency and the person largely 
responsible for her being back had shown a propensity to see 'woman' rather 
than 'agent'. Certainly not one that he had known and trusted, more than 
once, with his life. When Jo had called him on it he had at first denied... 
and then slumping slightly in his chair conceded it was probably true. She 
was not Pete. Whether she was good, or not... she was a woman and therefore 
needed more... help, looking out for, caution in speech and action. It wasn't 
quite them and us... but that was part of it. A macho bastion that did not 
know what to do with an interloper, especially one like her.  Even knowing, 
acknowledging it, did not change anything. She was not Pete. Pete was one of 
the guys. Now Jo was one of a very few front line women in the field and the 
geological shift was a long way off.   

Her thoughts wandered... at the first tentative steps of rejoining they had 
both been nervous. But both, for probably different reasons wanted to see Jo 
back, living and 'participating' as part of the society that both gave and 
sheltered and rejected and hurt. Once the decision had been made to dip a toe 
in the water the first problem struck. Home was not convenient to 'the 
office' and Bec used the car most days to get to and from the school. A 
casual stroll through town one afternoon had shown an old bike in the corner 
of the workshop where everyone got fuelled or repaired. A 70's vintage Honda 
needing work and registration. The idea of solo travelling appealed, not to 
mention the price... which was only $800.   

After a bit of haggling it was loaded onto a trailer and deposited under a 
temporary tarp strung from the corner of the house. A manual, some hired 
tools, lots of phone calls to sympathetic 'bike nuts', assorted skinned 
knuckles and copious swearing and finally, it was ready. In the meantime she 
had passed the tests and had a provisional license.  A once over with a few 
adjustments from a good mechanic and she was on the road, 'born to be wild... 
shit, what a crock'. 

Peace. That was what it meant. Especially late at night. The almost fluid 
roll and sway as the bike effortlessly cruised the roads from city to home. 
Relative quiet. No music or distractions from others. Once the mechanics of 
riding were somewhat ingrained and her natural observational skills kept her 
out of any likely trouble from other road users it was almost like 
meditating. Similar to flying she thought... and in no way comparable to 
riding in a car. At least part of the title of 'that' book made sense even if 
the rest was a mess. 

Her mind roamed for another half hour until the noise of a car pulling up out 
front drew her back from wherever she'd been. It was another few minutes 
before Bec appeared in the room, tired but as always energised by the 
interplay with the 'kids' she taught. This was one of the regular drama 
nights. Outside the curriculum but part of the program to develop young minds 
and bring about thoughtful, intelligent and hopefully educated young adults. 
The mostly 14, 15 and 16 year olds doted on their teacher and friend. There 
were a few that drew back or requested another... particularly after the 
relationship with Bec and Jo had become known. She had done everything she 
could to keep Jo from knowing of the occasional 'attack' she had endured. She 
had not completely succeeded but had expected that. She was able to downplay 
the few incidents that had caused some hurt... she was far more concerned 
with Jo's state of mind. A few mindless idiots attacking her character was 
nothing. Most were either accepting or indifferent, which amounted to the 
same thing... no problem.  The few... well...

Jo became aware of a figure standing and looking at her.

"Hey hon. How was the Shakespeare?"

There was no immediate answer and she raised her eyes to look more closely at 
Bec's face. The obvious pleasure of her night was muted with worry that 
etched small lines around those soft blue eyes. The tension and guilt Jo felt 
was wiped by a sudden sadness that she could inflict this on the one person 
she loved beyond all others.  'You self centred bitch!' 

The words flashed through her mind as she rose and hugged the smaller woman 
in an attempt to reassure and connect. Somewhere in the back of her head was 
a stray thought that despite everything she actually thought and referred to 
herself as female. Which was sort of strange considering. It was and was 
not... true. 

Bec hugged Jo tight for a moment and then pushed her back to arms length and 
searched her face for a sign of... what? Peace, acceptance? The worry and 
fear she tried to hide was not hidden at all and Jo felt a wave of revulsion 
that she was the cause. Bec deserved better than this sham of a relationship. 
Despite the protestations Jo could not believe that this... what, 'lesbian' 
pairing was what Bec wanted and likely needed. She wanted children... and 
that was no longer possible, at least with Jo. Adoption was not even 
considered. Neither wanted a child that had no connection to them beyond a 
vague desire to feel wanted, perhaps needed by someone, something that had to 
go both ways. 

Besides... what agency would even consider them with such an 'odd' 
relationship. After all, successful, heterosexual, carefully vetted couples 
had enough trouble. Let alone a strange 'gay' pairing that had other 
problems. 

Bec was the first to break the tense silence. 

"So... how did it go today? Catch the bad guys in the act? Make the city safe 
for us law-abiding citizens? " With a shake of her head she pulled back.

"Sorry. That sounded really bitchy. I know you need to do this and it is 
worth doing. I just have a little trouble believing the people that demand so 
much of you and give so little are worth it. And I'm not so sure that the 
vast majority of those same law-abiding citizens would not agree with the 
suspicions of your so-called superiors if they were asked. My faith in the 
general goodness of human nature has been just slightly shaken in recent 
months." She sighed and took a deep breath as Jo gazed at her face with a mix 
of pain and sorrow taking turns at washing her features. Bec swore under her 
breath realising a touch of hysteria was creeping into her voice.

"Live and let live, what crap. The vast majority neither know nor care what 
you might have done or suffered on their behalf. They just see one of 
'those', a weirdo that thinks he's a woman. Utter rubbish of course. I mean 
what sane man could even think such a thing let alone believe it. And a woman 
thinking she's a man... utterly preposterous. Genetics and nature don't lie, 
not to mention God. Delusional psychos the lot of you. Grow up Joanna... be a 
man. That's what you are after all." 

The tears were running down Bec's face as she tried to stop herself. But the 
pain and fear... and oh yes... anger, was too much. Jo gathered her in a hug 
and tried to touch her with thought as well as physical presence. Bec 
squeezed her lover tight as her emotions ran rampant. 

"Those sanctimonious bastards. They use you and almost get you killed. They 
blithely sit back and say your loyalty is now questionable. Never mind that 
you were brainwashed and almost killed not to mention physically abused 
beyond what most could survive. You are damaged goods because their  
intelligence system failed. They dropped the ball and it almost killed you. 
But of course it's your fault. How dare you let yourself be taken. I mean 
aren't you trained to avoid that. So they're obviously right... you are no 
longer up to it. You useless bitch... sorry bastard. Sir not ma'am despite 
appearances and general physical reality." 

Bec pulled away and tried to still her thoughts as she wiped her nose on her 
sleeve. She paced back and forth as Jo watched sadly. She knew it hurt, Jo's 
expression told her that very eloquently, but she was powerless to stop now 
the dam had been breached. And a small part of her wanted to hurt Jo... 
because some tiny part of Bec and maybe whatever was left of Pete was 
agreeing with the twisted logic of it all.  

"They use you, demean you, relegate you to beginner status and waste all your 
skill and knowledge because they fear you. I mean if you can be twisted and 
broken down to a 'lowly female' what chance those pathetic desk jockeys 
should anyone ever question their masculinity, let alone.... And now they 
want me to resign because I'm a bad influence on the minds of growing 
children. Living in a gay relationship with a deviant who isn't even a real 
woman, which somehow makes it worse. God damn them all to hell!!" 

The anger dissipated like fog and she slumped sobbing against Jo who had 
taken two paces and wrapped her in a hug, shushing softly as tears ran down 
her own face. 

'So', thought Jo as she tried to ease Bec just by holding her. 'Someone has 
decided the best and one of the most popular teachers they've had in years 
was now suddenly a bad influence on impressionable minds. All because of her. 
All the rest was there in the background but now the whispering cowards that 
pretended moral superiority had attacked the core of Becs being. She was a 
teacher. It was part of her and had been since childhood. And they sought to 
take that because they found her morally questionable.'  What they thought of 
Jo was probably not repeatable.    

"Come on hon. We'll work it out. You can beat them just by being who you are. 
There will be some who can't or won't see anything outside a narrow view of 
what is or is not 'acceptable behaviour'. But most know better or at least 
will not just react blindly. You are one of the best in that place as most 
acknowledge. As long as I stay in the background it should be fine..."

" Yes! That's just the damn point isn't it. You... we, have to pretend and 
play the game just to placate some... ideal. A false reality to reinforce an 
imaginary comfort zone. I just..."

"Come on Bec let's have dinner it's all ready. We don't have to fight them 
all at once. Nor do we hide. Just go gently and try not to rub anyone's face 
in it. I guess we come under the 'Gay couple' banner. So public 
accommodations have to be made unless you want to spend your life fighting 
prejudicial battles. Those that might have accepted would likely go to the 
other side if things become uncomfortable. When you're outnumbered thousands 
to one, direct confrontation is usually not a good idea. We just have to 
accept certain limitations on public affection or ultimately, they will win." 

"Yes. I know you're right, but... It's just not right or fair, or..." Her 
voice trailed off as she took a breath and nodding, half smiled, although it 
had a tinge of bitterness to it. 

"Oh Jo, I know you're right... and usually I can roll with it. Just when I 
saw my whole career being threatened because of something you or I did not 
want and could not control... well. It just tore me up. I tried to hide it 
from you, but... I know you have it harder than me in most respects. Those 
dreams tell me that if nothing else. It seemed we were going to be Ok... and 
then the last few months it's begun to fall apart. I, ah, actually started to 
think we might not make it and that lunatic bitch would win after all. I love 
you, but... sometimes I wonder if that will be enough. It's just so hard."

Her eyes locked onto Jo's and silently begged for the strength she knew was 
in that body. The blend of athleticism and mental discipline that had allowed 
Pete to survive at all. She saw the battles Jo went through with memory and 
what would normally be mundane trivia that an average girl would just shrug 
at. But of course this situation was not 'average' in any sense. Jo was 
largely together and sane, which was in itself a miracle, but... Her eyes 
begged Jo to hold it together and become who she now was, wholly and without 
reservation. Dr Franklin had talked to her at length that that was the key to 
Jo becoming whole and free of the horror.  She whispered and Jo only just 
heard..." please Jo accept who you are now. Be free of it and love me."

She whispered back as she gently pulled Becs head to her chest, "I will Bec I 
will. Somehow we will be Ok. Come on..." she softly kissed the tears from 
Becs eyes, lifted her gently and carried her through to the bedroom. Dinner 
would keep. 

3.

Jo awoke as the first hint of light drifted through the window, almost 5am. 
She stretched gently so as not to disturb Bec and gave a quick peck on the 
cheek which raised a soft mumble and slight reposition in her sleep. Jo 
slipped out to find Sabina waiting and ready to run. Donning her gear she 
mused on the previous night... They had made love... slowly, languorously and 
she had made sure Bec had felt everything she could make her feel. Her own 
experience was... less, but still enjoyable. If she could truly let it all go 
just maybe this could work. At least there had been no dreams to destroy the 
nights mood. 

She ran through a slow kata to get the blood flowing as Sabina sniffed her 
way around the yard impatiently. After about 20 minutes she began the 
familiar circuit down along the dirt road and into the bush tracks that 
surrounded the property with Sabina bounding along joyfully. 

He lowered the rifle and placed it in the shaped foam bed of the guitar gig 
bag as the tall one disappeared into the trees. Sniffed the air and mentally 
measured the breeze. Almost dead still. 'As they said goodbye for the day at 
the car, in approximately 2 hrs,' he decided. Set the buzzer alarm on his 
watch and settled himself to doze and simply relax. Tense was no good... but 
this would be all too easy. A simple shot of 250 metres. He once again 
pondered his brief. Quite specific, if a little unusual, but the money had 
been paid so... 'his not to wonder why...', he smiled to himself. After just 
14 days, which was nothing for this sort of job, he would be done in a few 
hours. His initial survey had found the lay-up, routes in and out, checked 
the distance and within days had procured an ex army L1A1 which he stripped 
and rebuilt with great care. Subsequent test firing had proved that a 
grouping of 5cm at 300m was attainable and that was quite good enough for 
this assignment. He settled himself and was in the instant action, semi sleep 
mode of experienced combat troops in moments. 

She paced the clearing in the front of the house as her breathing settled and 
she stretched gently. Sabina was flopped on the grass with her tongue hanging 
out and a big grin on her face. "Sab, sometimes I think you find us humans 
all too amusing. You're probably right. Come on, brekky." They both headed 
inside and Jo started the makings of an omelette while Sab supervised from 
the floor in the corner. Bec had been finishing in the shower as they came 
inside so she would be ready to eat in a few minutes.   

It was 10 before Bec came into the kitchen and gave Jo a hug and kiss to the 
cheek. She looked more closely at the taller woman and smiled, "You seem more 
at ease this morning than you have been for a while. Now if I can just get 
you to let go completely in the bedroom it'll wash over into everything 
else." She grinned as the blush spread up Jo's face. "Hmmm... tonight it's my 
turn to be in charge missy. I'll have you screaming yet you slut." This time 
she laughed out loud as the blush on Jo's face deepened. 

With a crooked smile Jo put 2 plates of omelette and 2 mugs of coffee on the 
table as Sabina tucked into the scrapings over a bit of dry food. 

"Ooh, boots and a whip huh. Can't quite see it somehow. It was nice last 
night Bec. It was good to be needed and offer comfort... and I almost felt 
comfortable loving you like that. I don't really know why I have trouble. I 
mean it's not as if I haven't had a while to adjust. I suppose it's the 
hangover of the dreams and we pushed through that fog last night. So... maybe 
we're closer. Or me anyway. I know you had doubts at first but you seemed 
more able to get past them."

Bec reached out and gripped Jo's hand. 

" Well I loved Pete and you are him even if you look and act a little 
different. All I had to get past was a slight hang-up of being with another 
girl. Nobody messed with my mind and body... so I had it a little easier. I 
did mean it when I asked you to marry me. I'm still a bit upset we can't... 
but we're committed and we love each other. So... we'll work it out. I just 
hope this is a breakthrough and we can share a bed again. I've missed the 
closeness."   

They chatted easily over breakfast and kidded each other about bondage 
fantasies and who got to wear the boots and do the sneering. Both knew that 
if they ever did explore that at all it would be totally open and sharing and 
pretty innocent, not some humiliation game. Neither could even begin to 
understand that side of things nor did they want to. 

"Ok hon. I better head in. Got a few things to set up and a quick test to 
workout. " They cleaned up the dishes and rinsed the cups as Bec grabbed her 
bag and headed for the door with Jo and Sabina following. 

"Are you going in today?" 

"Yes, but not till lunchtime. Got to type up the report from yesterday and 
check up when the final sting is likely to go down. I'll only be there for a 
few hours so I'll be back before you. I'll do the lamb curry, the meats 
marinating now."  

They stopped beside the car and with a quick hug and a peck to the cheek. 
Each saying 'love you ... see you later.' As they separated the side window 
of the car exploded showering them with glass. Sabina flattened herself in 
terror and Jo reacting on pure instinct, grabbed Bec by both arms and flung 
her across the bonnet of the car as she screamed in fear and possibly pain at 
the assault to her body. As she slipped off onto the ground on the far side 
Jo turned to look in the direction the shot had come from. It was definitely 
a shot. The crack had registered as she had grabbed Bec. It took a couple of 
seconds before she zeroed in on the figure standing and looking straight at 
her through a riflescope. She knew roughly where he was and even if she 
didn't die in the next few seconds there was no way to get to him quickly. 
She tensed and wondered would she even feel it. Then to her surprise he 
shouldered the weapon and gazed at her for a moment before stooping and 
rising again a few seconds later with some sort of bag slung over his 
shoulder. Then he turned and without a gesture or acknowledgement of any 
sort, walked away into the trees. 

4.

It had taken 22 minutes for the team to get there. By which time Jo had wiped 
Becs scrapes and put her right arm in a sling. She suspected the wrenching 
throw had fractured the collarbone that had been broken the year before. Bec 
had stopped shivering and Jo had full control of her hands once more as the 
adrenaline shock wore off. Sabina was pressed against her leg, giving and 
receiving comfort. Justin had slipped in without a word gun drawn at his 
side. A quick outline from Jo had sent two team members and a tech to the 
shooters hide while the Doc checked them both over.

 They were both sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee when Justin 
walked in a little over an hour later. Bec would go with Doc to get an x-ray 
while Jo would go into the office. They hugged silently and then Bec followed 
the Doc out to his car taking Sabina with her. They would stay at a safe 
house for the next week, until...

Without a word Jo made 2 more cups as Justin sat at the table sitting a shell 
casing upright in the centre. A few minutes later she sat and they both 
sipped. Both of them looked at the single brass shell sitting upright between 
them. 

"Well your cars had it. The bullet shattered the console after doing the 
window. We got it... or what's left. Found the lay up easy enough. He's been 
there a few days, probably scoped things out a week or so earlier. Definitely 
a pro. We found that casing sitting upright on a rock, but apart from an 
indent where he slept, didly. He took everything, even his waste with him. No 
doubt has military, probably covert training. 762 mill which lends itself to 
the military theory as well. It looks as though he meant to miss. No way you 
or Bec would be standing otherwise. Which means..." 

"Yeah. Someone wants me to know I'm in their thoughts. Two guesses, mad 
Italian Doctor or mad Italian Doctor." 

"Yeah... So..."

"Yep." 

"Me and Ted are in. I'll clear the time, there's nothing we have to be here 
for. The other guys can wrap up the hooker thing. This needs to end." 

"All we need to do is find her." 

"She's at the Bolzano house." He shrugged as Jo stared at him. "We've been 
keeping an eye on her movements since that last encounter. She's been clean 
as a whistle as far as we know, but... Anyway that's where she was day before 
yesterday." He got up and rinsed his cup and turned back to Jo.

"I don't suppose you'll let me and Ted go in and take her out. Three days and 
it would be over without you getting anywhere near her. She may still have 
some hold on you. Doc Franklin admits he has no idea what she did to your 
mind, or what might still be sitting there. Just let us do it." 

He sighed as Jo shook her head back and forth. He'd known she wouldn't go for 
it. That she would have to be there. He thought about ordering her to stay 
and let them do it. But figured she would only go off on her own. If it was 
Pete sitting there he would not have intruded beyond wishing him luck and 
maybe offering to help. But Jo was not Pete. She might be as good, maybe more 
than him, once she was fully together again, women had some skills men did 
not after all. And Jo was a woman now, no question. He had difficulty at 
times connecting Pete to Joanna and he had known Pete very well. Joanna was 
tough to be with sometimes. She carried a haunted air, which was hardly 
surprising, and the threat of mental collapse or regression had worried him 
and the Doc despite allowing her back in. They hoped she would be helped in 
rehabbing herself by being back on the job. They kept her away from some jobs 
for that reason, but that had seemingly had the opposite effect. And now 
this. Maybe they could close it out for good and Jo would be back to what 
she, well Pete, had been. The best. 

He sighed again as Jo gazed into space only turning her eyes his way at the 
slight sound. 

"Ok Jo, I figured that's how you'd see it. Ted and I are flying out to Milan 
tonight. You're booked for 12.15 tomorrow. So, assuming we've called this 
right Thursday morning we go in and finish this. I hope you're up for it. Are 
you sure you can face her again?"

"Yes I'll be fine. Whatever she did to me that hold is gone. There are some 
lingering programs that push me to be the perfect girl, but generally I'm 
fine. I know exactly when the conditioning kicks in, it's sort of a 
discomfort compulsion thing that increases until I fix that broken nail or 
whatever. I can fight it if I need to and I don't believe she has any hidden 
triggers to turn me into some robot. Once the drugs were out of my system her 
hold was gone. I am what she made me in some ways, but I am also me, far more 
than she wanted or intended. I'm pretty sure meeting her will affect me to 
some extent, but I won't freeze up or drop to my knees in supplication."

"You hope." Justin muttered almost silently. 'Well, we'll see I guess.' He 
dropped a travel document pouch on the table that Jo opened and skimmed 
through with a small smile forming as she did.

"Ok then. I have a connection at Beretta for weapons so that's sorted. You'll 
be in Milan tomorrow evening, check in and then go to that address ask for 
Jorge. There will be a couple of Cougar 8000 compacts with one waist and one 
shoulder holster, 3 spare mags for each and suppressors waiting for you. We 
will already have picked up one of the new Storm carbines and a 92 each, the 
mags are interchangeable carbine to pistol which is nice, 5 a piece of those, 
holsters and slings as appropriate, suppressors all round. It's about a 6 
hour drive to Bolzano, we'll get kitted out when we arrive and check the 
intel. Ted will be point and will head straight out, laying up Tuesday night 
near the house. I'll be your shadow when you arrive. Then we'll see. 

Wednesday he and I will compare notes and update one another by phone. When I 
join him Thursday morning... we take the house and finish Luciana once and 
for all. We can adjust the timing on the run if needs be, but that's the 
initial outline.  We can't touch her legally so this is it."

Jo nodded as she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Just the thought 
of 'her' was putting her on edge. She looked at Justin and he nodded as her 
eyes showed that same intelligence and purpose that he knew from jobs past. 
She was not Pete but just maybe this would bring her back to where he had 
been. He hoped so. 

"You know this could finish us. You don't have to, you or Ted. I need to, 
otherwise I might never be whole again but you guys... You know I can do it. 
I won't like it, but it's better than living in this purgatory of hers just 
waiting till she decides to play again. The wills up to date should I fuck up 
and then it's only me that goes down." She winced slightly at the feeling of 
discomfort brought on by her use of an expletive, very un-lady like. 

"You know the answer before you ask it. You can't do this alone. We are in 
because we owe you and we want this over, for you and Bec. And because she 
messed with one of us, Pete was and Joanna is. Then there's the why..."

"Yeah. There is that. If we've called this wrong..." 

5.

She booked into the small hotel just outside the city centre, had a quick hot 
shower to wake and loosen up. It was a nice evening so she chose to stroll 
the few blocks to the small shop that specialised in the clothing, 
accoutrements and shotguns for hunters or skeet shooters. Basic weapons for 
the casual or less well heeled to highly customised special order pieces for 
the nobility or the simply rich.  The bell tinkled as she opened the door to 
a tall and elegantly dressed man checking the balance of a beautifully 
engraved and polished over under, he casually undressed her with 
expressionless eyes. The shorter man in the apron smiled at her and murmured, 
"Un momento signora", (one moment madame) gesturing he would attend to her 
shortly. 

She stood still and quietly returned the customers appraisal. Tall, slim and 
dangerous she decided. The shotgun was handed back, placed on the counter 
between them and a brief mumbled conversation was held. He must have felt her 
gaze as he turned to Jo and smiled a small amused half smile, bowed to her 
with a flourish and walked out the door, his movements fluid and smooth 
despite a likely 50 plus years. Jo could not help a small smile of her own, 
'Yep dangerous all right, in more ways than one'. She liked Italians but the 
next guy that pinched her bum was going to get his arm broken. 

"Come posso essere di servizio signora?" (How may I be of service madame?)

"Sto cercando Jorge. Sono Joanna Collins, Justin Williams suggerito io parlo 
lui." (I am looking for Jorge. My name is Joanna Collins, Justin Williams 
suggested I look him up)

He smiled and bowed slightly, walked to the door, flicked a closed sign and 
the lock, beckoning her to follow he headed through the shop and down a 
flight of stairs. 

"Your Italian is quite good but I think English, yes?" He spoke over his 
shoulder as they descended. 

"Yes that might be best." A slight smile crossed her face as she chuckled. 

 He led the way to a long soundproofed room with a large workbench against 
the near wall. There were guns of all varieties scattered upon it.  He 
reached for a pair of mid sized automatics that had several magazines and two 
holsters beside them. 

"The Cougar 8000 with custom suppressors. A fine, accurate and compact 
weapon, perfect for a lady such as yourself." He appraised her clothing, low 
heeled leather ankle boots tight jeans and a long figure-hugging cowl necked 
sweater a 6cm wide belt at the waist. A wine skin shaped bag hung loosely on 
her left shoulder from a long strap. 

"The hip holster will work, the other you need a jacket for. We will adjust 
for fit though... please try a few rounds to get the feel. All the magazines 
have been freshly loaded." He waved at a silhouette at the far end of the 
room. Perhaps 20 metres. 

She went to slip a pair of muffs over her ears as Jorge shook his head and 
smiled. Shrugging she raised the pistol, judged the balance, shifted her 
stance and fired. A small cough and a light snick of the slide was the only 
sound. Any background noise would mask it easily. Her first shot was slightly 
off, but after a half dozen she was spot on, an under 5 cm grouping. 

'Impressive', she thought. 'As nice as the Sigs she was used to and a 
fraction smaller and lighter. And that stumpy little suppressor... wow.' She 
repeated with the second pistol and after 4 rounds nodded, happy. Jorge 
smiled at her obviously favourable impression. He quickly cleaned and 
reloaded both weapons as she slipped on and adjusted the shoulder harness. He 
handed her one of the pistols, which she slid into the holster. When she had 
it sitting and adjusted just right she slipped it off and handed it to Jorge 
who placed it and the enclosed pistol into a small leather pouch, the spare 
mags followed. The other, fully loaded he handed to her in its waist holster. 
Nodding she took it and after removing her belt clipped it just right of her 
spine, bunching the sweater a little to hide the slight bulge. Glancing in 
the mirror on the wall she turned and made sure it was not obvious. Slipped 
the pouch and belt into her shoulder bag and turned with a smile.

"Does my bum look big in this?" She grinned at Jorge' obvious confusion. 

"Thank you Jorge they are perfect, I am extremely grateful. Justin said you 
were the best. He didn't lie." He beamed at her praise. 

"My pleasure entirely Signora. Any friend of Signore Justin... I am surprised 
we have not met before. He said you were old friends and had worked together 
for many years." 

"Ah, well I work mainly undercover, whereas Justin is more visible. So he has 
far more direct dealings with other agencies than I do.  You have obviously 
dealt with our lot before... you are affiliated? Sorry, don't answer if that 
is a problem."

"No. Not at all I have connections with several local and foreign agencies. 
Indeed your presence here is overseen by the Gruppo." He smiled at her look 
of incomprehension. 

"The Gruppo di Intervento Speciale, a branch of the carabinieri. Something 
between Swat and Criminal Intelligence. Not dissimilar to your own SAS but 
with considerably broader local powers." He shrugged, "Your presence is 
condoned... unofficially. The Doctore has overstepped more than once and has 
lost her protected status. But of course, I never said that and you were 
never here. You need not worry about the weapons, they are untraceable, 
discard freely if needs be. May I offer you an espresso...? I have this 
delightful blend..." He kissed his pressed together fingertips and flared 
them wide, gesturing her ahead of him, up the stairs.   

They sat in his small office adjoining the showroom and she smiled politely 
as he flirted almost unconsciously. He was charming and made a fine coffee, 
if a little strong. He sighed melodramatically as she signalled she must 
leave, thanked him again as he bowed and theatrically kissed the knuckles of 
her right hand. She laughed aloud as he smiled widely, showed her to the door 
and with a flourish closed it behind her. Still smiling she headed up the 
street, back to the Hotel.   

6.

She had gone only a hundred metres, turned the first corner and was instantly 
aware of 3 figures angling in from different sectors. 'Corsicans... 
Algerians... Union Corse? In Italy?' She stopped as another larger figure 
stood centred in the street ahead, a large pistol pointing straight at her. 
She ducked, dropping her bag and rolled to her left, pulling the pistol from 
her waist. She caught the spark of the dart as it struck the cobbles just 
beside her as her own pistol spat. The large man buckled and dropped 
silently. She spun again to confront the other 3 only to see 2 down and the 
other sprinting away down a narrow alley. Justin swung his weapon in an arc 
to shoot only to see the third man drop and slide into the alley wall. 

Both glanced at each other to assure all was well and with a question. That 
was answered as the tall slim man from the shop appeared from a shadowed 
doorway, pistol held at his side. He smiled at them both and then waved 
several times as though brushing them away. Justin smiled and nodded.

"Come on Jo, let's go." She glanced between the 2 men and with a small nod of 
her own, holstered her weapon, brushed some dirt off her sweater, picked up 
her bag and recommenced the interrupted journey.  

Neither said a word until they were back in Jo's room. She ordered a light 
supper for 2 and a local bottle of red. Then turned to Justin with a 
questioning gaze. 

"Well... it seems we were right. She was expecting you. Those thugs just 
didn't expect you to be that alert... and they certainly didn't expect me. 
That, ah, gentleman you just met is Colonel Silvestro Santini, one of the top 
boys in the Gruppo. I knew he was aware of us... didn't expect him to be 
roaming about in back alleys though."  

"Hmm, he was at the gun shop. Headed out as I came in, so I guess he was 
watching and maybe wanted a look at me close up. Jorge mentioned the Gruppo 
and that they had given unofficial sanction to our presence." She stopped as 
a wide smile spread across Justin's face.

 "What?" 

The smile widened. "You mean you got more than three words out of Jorge? 
Damn... you must have, ah, impressed him." He laughed aloud as Jo scowled and 
blushed at the same time. 

The conversation was interrupted by a knock as their supper and wine was 
delivered. While Jo dealt with room service Justin stood on the small balcony 
and made a phone call. She laid out the food and poured 2 glasses as Justin 
returned to the room flipping his phone shut. 

"Just spoke to Ted. There's been virtually no movement at the house. She is 
definitely still there along with about a dozen others. At least 8 of those 
are combatants, probably armed." He paused while Jo let that sink in. After a 
moment she nodded and he continued. 

" He also says he has a way in. Rigged a door bolt and rewired the alarm 
switch. We can be inside in under a minute, almost certainly unobserved. I 
figure you go in the front door all piss and vinegar while Ted and I will 
sneak in the back way. If the Gods are looking our way we can finish this in 
a few hours tomorrow morning. Ted's snoozing as much as possible but he'll be 
wide-awake if there's any movement... or tomorrow morning. I'll join him at 
dawn and you can go in any time after that." He paused and measured his words 
carefully.

"Are you sure Jo? I know this was in the game plan but..." 

"Hey come-on Justin. I can do this... no problem. This bitch needs to go 
down. And I owe her. It'll be fine." She poured confidence into her 
expression until he nodded and turned away sipping his wine to gaze out the 
window. Had he been watching her expression as it turned inward and flashed 
with fear he might well have called it off and asked for an air strike or 
something equally ridiculous. Jo's emotions rolled and thrashed like a cat 
cornered by a pack of dogs. Fear she knew... but this was something else. 
Somewhat irrational and unexplainable, but all too real, not incapacitating, 
but... 

7.

The hired car was parked to the side just up from the door. She had dressed 
carefully to show elegance and style while maintaining comfort and ease of 
movement. A charcoal pantsuit, she couldn't help but smile... it was Italian, 
over a cream silk roll neck blouse, small black shoulder bag and the same 
flat-soled black ankle boots. Both her holstered pistols were concealed under 
the tailored jacket. Spare mags clipped to her waist belt and the right 
under-arm strap, the remaining 2 in her bag. Overkill she thought, but better 
safe than sorry. If it came to a shoot out, any more than the twenty rounds 
her pistols held between them was likely pointless. She would probably be 
dead before that. Or otherwise out of action. At that thought she shivered.  

A smartly dressed maggiordomo answered the door at her rapping of the large 
lions head knocker. He showed no expression as she introduced herself and 
asked to see Dr Alvi... on personal business. She pushed past him and headed 
for the house. Startled it took a moment for him to catch up, he ushered her 
across a large courtyard, to a side door and into a library or sitting room. 

"Se lei soddisfarebbe l'attesa qui signora." (If you would please wait here 
madame) He bowed stiffly and left, closing the door behind him. 

She pulled a compact and checked her makeup and smiled as she finished a 
touch up to her lips, 'perfect'. That last thought followed by a rueful shake 
of her head, she slipped the compact back into her bag and half turned as the 
door opened. Two large black suited men entered and spilt to opposite sides. 
The first tracked her expressionlessly, the second stopped suddenly and his 
eyes flared as he recognised her.

He reached for his armpit as she spun and in the same movement flicked the 
pistol from her waist to shoulder height and fired. It caught him centre 
chest before his hand had cleared his lapel and the snagged weapon discharged 
into the chair beside him. The other, caught by surprise, dropped and rolled 
to a table and smacked a button on the underside. A steady, not over loud, 
but intrusive ring echoed through the house.  

He took that momentary distraction to pull his own and fire at this deadly 
woman. He was not a good shot... it smacked the wall a metre to her left as 
she swung her own, tracking his roll and dropped him to the floor with a head 
shot. 

"Shit!" She swore loudly at this turn of events. She hated killing, but they 
had agreed, in fact Justin had insisted... no prisoners. If guns where drawn 
anyone even vaguely threatening went down. No second chance, no fancy tricks, 
no mercy. 

At almost the same time she heard shots echo in another part of the house 
followed by a quiet stutter, the carbines she guessed. Shrugging mentally she 
dropped her bag and stalked out the door and began to search. Ted and Justin 
were very good... much better than these jokers... she hoped. Whatever the 
case, she and they were on their own for the moment. 

She searched several rooms before returning to the central foyer and looking 
up the stairs. Every minute or so there were a few more shots followed by 
another of those stutters. They seemed to be slightly separated so both were 
still active and hopefully gaining control. 

She climbed stiffly, almost in slow motion, arms out, the pistol tracking 
side to side, breathing regular and slow in time to the movement. She had a 
slight hiccup of laughter as she thought how this would look on film. 
'Stupid, that's how'. But then no actor had people firing live rounds at them 
that were intended to kill... 'Stuff style'. The fact that no one was in 
sight and no one was shooting almost made her laugh out loud, '...so I look 
like a goose... I'm not a cooked one... yet'.  

She reached the top and paused, took a deep breath and spun across the hall 
and into an open door. Quickly searched the room and then the one next door. 
Something drew her to the large double doors at the end of the hall. 
'There...', she knew it. 

She crouched outside the door and listened with every cell in her body. A 
small creak just inside to the right, shoe leather she guessed. 'Tsk, tsk... 
shouldn't wear new shoes to a gunfight'. She drew her energy and exploded it 
with a screamed ""Kiai!!"" The shuffled sidekick to the central lock 
shattered the mechanism and flung both halves of the door inward.  The right 
side caught the guard she had heard move on the shoulder and his gun spun 
away across the room, she dropped him where he stood with two shots to the 
chest. She turned to the second but was not quick enough. He slammed her 
against the doorframe, stunning her and causing her own weapon to slide 
across the floor. 

A forearm smash to her neck dropped her to the floor. As he went to stamp on 
her she spun and flipped upright, catching him in the groin with her 
shoulder. He rose to tiptoe and then dropped with a wavering cry. She allowed 
him to half rise, spun him back to back using his own weight for leverage as 
they both knelt on the floor, then with her arms locked across his throat 
over her shoulders, tensed and surged upright and forward. The snap as his 
neck broke was audible. As the body dropped to the floor she vaguely 
registered movement of someone reaching and pulling swiftly back and down to 
her left. She spun breath rasping in her throat to find Luciana lunging at 
her with a blazing expression of... hatred? 

A piercing fire burst from her belly as Luciana hit her with whatever she had 
grabbed. Joanna stood still as pain spread up and out from the point of 
impact. He hands grasped at... 'what the hell was that?' 

"Oh... shit... you have got to be fucking kidding?" She rasped the outraged 
exclamation in an exhausted whisper, the ingrained pain at the expletives 
overridden by numbness. Her eyes roamed the wall to see the coat of arms and 
a single sword. The other was currently stuck through Joanna's body and 
seeping bright red. She slumped to her knees and clinically noted it was not 
pumping dark arterial blood, so... maybe. 

As she dropped to her knees she looked straight at Luciana who stood with an 
almost contemptuous expression, glaring at Jo. 

"Ah Petra my dear, such a waste. I dearly wanted to have a proper chat. Get 
reacquainted. You left so suddenly last time. We have business to discuss, 
but alas..." 

She shrugged and poured a brandy from a decanter on the sideboard, gazing 
indifferently at Jo as the breath wheezed painfully from the kneeling woman. 
Sipping she crossed her arms across her chest clasping one elbow and holding 
the glass just below her mouth in a loose fingered grasp.

She moved as though to sit and watch Jo die, when her head cocked at another 
stuttered burst, just down the stairs it seemed. Muttering under her breath, 
she reached for a dropped weapon and moved to Jo to give the coup de grace. 

Those madly flaming eyes locked on Joanna's and a feeling of inevitability 
and futility washed over her. She watched as Luciana sneered and raised the 
gun to fire point blank at her forehead. Another stuttered burst, closer this 
time momentarily distracted Luciana. As her gaze switched to the door Jo had 
a flash of Bec being hit by the car and then being sprayed with flying glass 
as the car window exploded. A remembered 'I love you...' echoed in her mind 
Jo screamed and with a gasping drawn out groan pulled the sword from her stomach. Dropped it to the floor and drunkenly swayed upright.  

Luciana was so surprised she just stood transfixed as Jo lurched forward and 
With everything she had left she punched the chin of the wavering taunting figure that stood over her. 

Luciana stumbled backwards, tripped on a bunched floor runner, crashed 
through the glass French door to a small, enclosed balcony and flipped over 
the low railing. 

Jo dropped to her knees again, breath rasping, totally spent. She had no idea 
how long it was before she dragged herself to her feet and lurched, more 
sideways than straight ahead, finally through the shattered doors. She stood 
wavering as consciousness threatened to leave and looked over the edge at the 
whitened fingers and glaring face of Luciana. The burning hate and madness in 
those eyes caused Jo to suck in a breath and sob aloud. 

At that sound and a slight shift downward as the finger hold slipped those 
burning eyes cleared. A sad and slightly puzzled expression flitted across 
the beautiful features momentarily. Almost as soon as it appeared it vanished 
as the flickering insanity returned. Her grip failed as Jo stood utterly 
unable to raise a hand to help. The blazing eyes fell away silently and Jo 
watched as the shadowy figure bounced and flipped as it fell down into the 
valley several hundred metres below. 

She stood on wobbly legs for a moment more and gazed out at the mountains 
beyond.  

"Physician... heal thyself..." she mumbled and slumped to the floor. She was 
vaguely aware of Justin and Ted moving to her as though in slow motion. Ted 
ripped her blouse to shreds and wrapped her waist in the torn strips, laying 
her flat as Justin screamed into his phone. 

Darkness engulfed her.  

8.

Jo gazed out the window at the shadowy eucalypts waving languidly in the 
slight evening breeze. She felt an unaccounted nervousness, Bec was up to 
something. It was her 34 th birthday and that little blonde devil had 
promised a present to remember. It was two months since her return from Italy 
and apart from some tenderness and residual stiffness in the puncture points 
she was fine. She had been relieved to hear that Becs collarbone was not 
broken, only sprained. Her mind wandered as she waited for whatever evil 
scheme was hatching in the other room to be revealed.

It seemed the Colonel had been surreptitiously backstopping them. As Ted had 
attempted to stop the bleeding and Justin had dialled there was an unmarked 
ambulance with 2 paramedics on the way. As soon as he heard Justins voice it 
was moving as was a team of his own... just to begin investigations, of 
course. 

She had woken in a strange room to find the Colonel sitting in an armchair 
and reading the paper. He glanced up to see her awake and made a disparaging 
remark about clumsy foreigners. Folded the paper and stepping across dropped 
it on the bed inviting her to read. He then bowed slightly and with that same 
sardonic expression she remembered form the shop, left.  A nurse had bustled 
in and in broken English had explained she was in a Private Hospital under 
the auspices of the Colonel, which meant the Gruppo and had been treated by a 
top surgeon and should recover fully. She would remain here for a probable 2 
weeks. "If you need anything..." gesturing at the small wired buzzer as she 
left. 

Basic questions answered Jo fumbled through the paper. Reading was tougher 
than speaking and she didn't speak all that well. It seemed she had been here 
for 3 days. A piece on page two described the Carrabinieri investigations 
into a criminal raid on the villa of the renowned Dottore Alvi, resulting in 
her death and the deaths of several business associates. Promising leads, 
dah, dah, dah, early arrest likely, dah, dah, dah. No mention of clumsy 
foreigners or the Gruppo. She lowered the paper and shook her head softly 
only then becoming aware of the vase of flowers and a small card sitting on a 
table to her left. She stiffly slid out of bed and carefully stepped to them 
and read the card. 'Signora Joanna I drink an espresso in your honour. Get 
well soon. Jorge.'

Smiling she had stumbled back to bed and slumped gratefully. 'No walking just 
for the moment girlie.'

Justin and Ted had visited a little while later and filled in the blanks. 
Everything was covered, they were clear. Bec was fine and back home. They 
flew out that afternoon. It was another 12 days before she followed. The 
Colonel had driven her to the airport, said barely 2 words. As she turned to 
head for the boarding gate he spoke.

" Avere un Collins di agente di volo piacevole. Lei è benvenuto qui in 
qualunque momento." (Have a pleasant trip home Agent Collins. You are welcome 
here anytime) He bowed deeply and walked away without another word.

 Home. Soon, she sighed and settled into her seat. 

The following 2 months had been quiet and gentle. She recouped and they were 
happy. The car had been fixed, better than 'new' and Bec was back teaching 
and loving it. All apparent sins forgiven or forgotten. Joanna was off for 
another month... and then, back in. 

Her thoughts returned to the present as a clip clip sound coming down the 
hall reached her ears. The vision that greeted her eyes caused a gasp of 
astonishment. Bec stood in the doorway wearing what could only be described 
as a Dominatrix outfit. High, spike heeled boots, glossy tight lace up dress, 
all black. Dark red lips and nails, hair slicked back into a tight bun. She 
had a stern expression on her face as she slapped a riding crop against her 
thigh.

"Well missy. I did say I was going to make you scream next time." 

It took another few seconds before Joanna could react and she did. Laughter 
erupted as she shook and almost fell off the lounge. She gasped as a small 
stab hit her middle and tears rolled down her face, more hysterics than pain. 

Bec to her credit held the pose for almost a minute before she too burst into 
laughter and gently threw the crop at the by now floor sitting Joanna.  

"What? You don't like the new look? I wonder if I can get my money back from 
the hire shop. Can you believe they even have a Dom section?" She managed to 
gasp out between bubbles of laughter. 

"Oh Bec... I do love you. But I have to say... you, ah, make a lousy 
Dominatrix. Attitude dear, you need attitude." The laughter bubbled for 
several more minutes as they cuddled on the floor and wiped each others 
tears. Eventually Bec led the way to the bedroom, the crop left unnoticed on 
the floor, took charge and... well, if not a scream it was a moan... of 
pleasure. 

Some time later, more than a little dishevelled they lay in each others arms, 
at peace. 

"Happy 34 Joanna my love. I think we're going to be fine. Just fine."

              ~~~ FINI ~~~ 

  Any thoughts or comments I can be contacted  -  kristinals@ozemail.com.au 
Anything short of abuse welcome.