"Love builds bridges where there are none."
-R. H. Delaney

He had to keep moving. His ribs hurt so much that it was hard to breathe and his arm felt like it was on fire, but he could not stop to rest. If he stopped, even for a second, the Volunteers would find him, and he was sure that whatever pain he was feeling at the moment would pale to nothing in comparison to what Zo'or was planning to do with him. No, he had to get away. Getting caught was not an option. He would die first.

Don't think about that. Just keep moving. A little further. Just a little further, and then you can rest.

Ronald Sandoval, the man who, until recently, had been one of the most powerful people in the world, was running for his life, moving as fast as he could while still keeping a careful watch around him. His senses were on overdrive -- every movement made him jump, every person he saw was a potential threat. By this time, all the Volunteers in the world would be informed about what Zo'or had done to him, and how the former Companion Protector had escaped. They would be coming for him full force. He needed to act fast, if he wanted to have any hope of surviving.

Sandoval was no stranger to being on the run. During his undercover operations for the FBI, before the Taelons came, he had had to go into hiding many times, and even after he became a Companion Protector there were several times when he found himself a fugitive, needing to escape his new masters' grasp. Always before, however, he'd had a little warning, a little time to plan before he had to make his move. At the very least, he'd always had someone to support him as he was hiding. Even if it was just his wife Dee Dee telling him she loved him, there had always been someone. This time, the attack had come completely out of the blue. He'd had no time to think about anything except how to escape as quickly as possible.

All he had with him was the gun he'd grabbed from Kincaid in that first desperate rush to escape, and an unregistered global that he kept, along with a wad of money, in a secret hiding place near the coordinates to which the portal from the Mothership had taken him. The money was enough to last him a couple of days, but it certainly would not keep him out of the long reach of the Taelons for long. He needed to come up with a plan of action, and soon.

The problem was that, try as he might, Sandoval could think of no one who would have any reason to help him, in any way. He had no illusions about that. Every one of his so-called "allies" had only helped him in the past because they feared he would use his influence over Zo'or to hurt them in some way. Now, with Zo'or so clearly turned against him, he had no doubt that not one of them would even hesitate for a moment before stabbing him in the back. Even Tate, Tate, who had been his right-hand man for so long that Sandoval had even almost begun to trust him -- even he had betrayed him. That scene on the Mothership...

No, damnit. Stop thinking about that. Concentrate on getting where you are going. Come on, you are almost there. Just keep moving.

So here he was, running to the one place, aside from the Mothership and the Taelon Embassy, where people would least expect to find him, to ask the help of a man who could by no stretch of imagination be called a friend -- Major Liam Kincaid, the man who has always been one of Sandoval's most vocal detractors, who, just a few weeks earlier, had testified in the ANA trial against him, and who, if Sandoval knew anything about the way Zo'or's mind worked (and he was beginning to doubt even that), would be leading the search for him. And the former Companion Protector was going to use that man as his last line of defense, all because of a barely glimpsed emotion, that brief flicker in the Major's eyes just before Sandoval had attacked him in his attempt to escape.

Right. No doubt about it. I have gone insane. A rueful grin, more a grimace than a smile, appeared on the former agent's face at the thought, but still he kept moving towards his goal. There was nothing else he could do. All his other choices were much worse.

Finally, as Sandoval turned one last corner, the building he had been running to appeared in front of him, looking almost threatening in the darkness. It had taken the former agent a long time to get from the portal to Kincaid's home, and the Flat Planet Cafe, the bar that Kincaid's hacker friend had left to the Major when he left, was already closed, the neon lamps that usually lit up the cafe's name turned off for the night. The windows in the upper floor were dark, though, and it was clear that the Major had not come home yet.

Sandoval paused for a second before entering the building, reminded once again of the sheer lunacy of what he was about to do. And yet somehow, going to Kincaid felt almost right -- a natural extension of what happened on the Mothership. And it's not like I have all that much left to lose, the former agent reminded himself ruefully. Zo'or took care of that.

Moving slowly now, looking carefully around him, Sandoval approached the entrance and moved up the stairs to Kincaid's appartment. Once there, even the former protector's beleaguered CVI was enough to provide the codes to circumvent the appartment's security system, and before the former agent knew it, he was inside his former colleague's front room.

"Liam Kincaid recognized," said the quiet electronic voice of Kincaid's Home Mantenance Unit, and Sandoval felt his lips curl in pure professional disdain at the thought of how easy it was to break into the Major's home.

Well, at least I know I'll be safe for a little while, he thought, feeling a rush of relief go through him. No one will ever think to look for me here.

***

***

Sandoval knew that he should take some time to search the apartment, to learn its layout so that he could be on at least a slightly more equal footing with Kincaid when he showed up, but even as he started to move around the large front room, he felt his legs starting to give out. The adrenaline rush that had sustained him during his initial escape attempt had finally run down, leaving the former Companion Protector weak and a little light-headed. His hurt shoulder and bruised ribs reasserted themselves, and Sandoval found it difficult to stand. He barely made it to the armchair in the shadows in the corner of the room before he collapsed.

After his panicked race through the city, where every sound he heard could have brought unspeakable danger, and every distant light was a possible harbinger of doom, the tranquil silence of the room seemed almost mocking, and Sandoval found utterly inappropriate laughter bubbling up inside him. He ruthlessly suppressed it, recognizing it as the first sign of impending breakdown, but the sense of the ridiculousness of his situation remained. What the hell was he doing here, hurt and almost defenseless, in the house of the man who had only a few weeks ago publicly accused him of being an amoral monster? How could he even consider throwing himself on this man’s mercy? And yet, this morning, Kincaid had been the only one who had showed any compassion towards him, the only one who even seemed to care what would happen to him.

Finally accepting that he would not be able to get up from the chair he was in, Sandoval allowed his head to fall back and closed his eyes, trying in vain to shut out the memory of that awful moment on the bridge of the Mothership when Zo’or had brought his whole world crashing down around him. The images rose by themselves, however, aided by the former Companion Protector’s nearly defunct CVI, overwhelming his defenses and taking him back on a trip through a past he did not want to relive. Figures. The one time I don’t want the CVI to perform its function, it decides to work as it’s supposed to. That was the former agent’s last coherent thought as he felt his physical surroundings fade from his consciousness, and the memory take hold.

***

***

"Love is shown in your deeds, not in your words."
-- Fr. Jerome Cummings

In retrospect, he should have known that Zo’or was planning something. The Synod Leader had been acting strange since that whole disaster with the Dark Matter, one moment treating Sandoval with almost impossible courtesy, and the next sneering down at him as if he were the lowest creature ever born on Earth. There were other times, too, when Zo’or thought his Protector wasn’t watching, and Sandoval was able to surprise a look of such cold disdain and what almost seemed like hatred in the Taelon’s eyes that it sent chills down the Agent’s back. He should have realized then that something was wrong.

Then again, Zo’or had never been very predictable, even at the best of times. Sandoval could remember many times when he had thought that the Synod Leader was up to something, only to later find that it was just some phase that the Taelon was going through. It seemed quite reasonable to just accept this as one of those times, and let Zo’or work things out for himself. After all, he’d always come around before. Besides, Sandoval really had no time to worry about such things. He’d had plenty of other problems to occupy his mind.

Ever since that Dark Matter incident, it seemed as if everything Sandoval got involved with inevitably went wrong. None of the plans the Agent set up against the Taelons had worked, and it looked as if Sandoval’s carefully cultivated network of contacts was coming apart at the seams. It was never anything too suspicious, or anything that could be connected to any one source – an investor getting cold feet and yanking his funding at just the right moment to prevent the development of a device Sandoval had wanted to use, or a special forces unit that he secretly supervised closing down at just the wrong moment, but the string of failures continued, and there didn’t seem to be anything Sandoval could do about it.

Now that it was too late to change what had happened, it was finally clear to Sandoval that most if not all of the disasters that he’d had to deal with in those last few months were Zo’or’s way of systematically destroying his Protector’s power base, so that the Protector would be completely at the Taelon’s mercy. Seeing the events again through his CVI, Sandoval could trace almost every step Zo’or had taken to undermine each of the deals he had made. At the time, however, the Agent had not been able to see the connection. He’d been so careful about making sure his dealings were kept a secret, and he was so used to Zo’or turning a blind eye to whatever he did in his free time, that he’d been unable to even conceive of the idea the Taelon finding out enough about his projects to be able to cause that much damage. After all, at the time, Sandoval had not been aware of just how much inside information Zo’or had had.

So, without knowing the source of his problems, Sandoval had had to fall back to reacting to each situation as it arose, instead of doing anything to prevent it from happening. With the disasters coming in faster and faster, he felt more and more like he was trying to stop a flood using his bare hands. For every small project he was able to salvage, there were many more that he was completely unable to hold on to. All of the Agent’s considerable skill and experience had not been enough to stop his power base, once so very extensive, from dwindling down to nothing. Add to that Dee Dee’s reappearance and her rejection of him, making him doubt so many of the beautiful memories he had once held so dear and that disastrous ANA trial that had resulted from his desperate attempt to regain at least some of the ground he’d lost, and it was no wonder that Sandoval hadn’t been able to think clearly enough to detect the Synod Leader’s involvement in bringing about his downfall.

With everything falling apart around him, and with the Human government so eager to disown him, Sandoval had found himself relying more and more on his Taelon charge. After the ANA trial, Zo’or had been the only one who still seemed to have some charitable feelings towards him, and at that point, Sandoval needed someone on his side so badly that he didn’t even wonder if those feelings were genuine. Even the Synod Leader’s inevitable mood swings were almost comforting – something familiar in the midst of all the upheaval in the Protector’s life. It had gotten to the point where Sandoval had actually started to look forward to coming to see Zo’or in the morning.

So when the Companion Protector came to the bridge of the Mothership that morning, he had no suspicions that anything out of the ordinary was going to happen. Even when he saw Da’an, looking incredibly agitated in his place standing next to Zo’or’s command chair, he did not start to worry. Da’an has been agitated a lot lately, and it was not his job to protect him anymore.

No, it was only when he saw the other people present that he started to feel some apprehension. Tate, his long-term friend -- no, not friend, associate -- and right-hand man was standing there, his face smug and careless as always, as though he didn’t have a care in the world, and beside him stood Dee Dee -- Dee Dee?! -- an expression of eager anticipation on her face. It was that gleam in his wife’s eyes that first told him that something was terribly wrong. Gone were the days when anything that helped her husband would have made Dee Dee Sandoval happy. The only thing that seemed to make her happy was making her husband suffer. And when two Volunteers appeared seemingly out of nowhere and took their places to both sides of him, he knew that his life as he knew it was coming to an end.

Still, despite the fear that was now coursing through his system, long-time training allowed the Companion Protector to keep emotion out of his voice when he stopped before his Taelon’s chair for what he was beginning to suspect would be his last time and said:

“You wanted to see me Zo’or?”

***

The Synod Leader gazed out from his seat on the command chair like a king surveying his kingdom. The cold smug look that he turned on Sandoval as the Agent approached was frighteningly familiar. During his time as the Synod Leader’s Protector, Sandoval had seen it used many times when the Taelon was looking forward to a confrontation where he knew he would have the upper hand. Sandoval sometimes thought that the look most resembled the expression a cat would have on its face while playing with a half-dead mouse – still enjoying the game, but already anticipating the pleasure of the kill.

“That’s right, Agent Sandoval.” Somehow, Zo’or managed to make his protector’s title sound like an insult simply by putting some stress on it and drawing it out. “I did wish to see you.”

The Taelon paused, and it seemed like the Universe itself held its breath while waiting for him to continue. Despite himself, Sandoval tensed in anticipation of the blow that was about to fall, and he felt rather that saw the two Volunteers at his sides tense as well, their eyes never leaving his still form. Sandoval knew these two – they were two of the best, and they had clearly been ordered to watch him very carefully. Then the Synod Leader spoke again, and all thoughts of anything other than the Taelon in front of him were driven from the protector’s mind.

“Ronald Sandoval, I place you under arrest for charges too numerous to mention, including breaking your oath as a Companion Protector, treason, and the attempted murder of your Taelon charge.” The Synod Leader spoke slowly, making sure that each word was clearly heard.

The world seemed to go dark for a moment, and Sandoval felt himself sway on his feet. He barely felt the two Volunteers grab him and expertly search him, confiscating all his weapons, including the knife he had always kept taped to his ankle, before releasing him again. Zo’or was not finished speaking, however, and Sandoval forced himself to concentrate on what the Taelon was saying.

“Each of these charges carries with it a capital sentence,” the Synod Leader continued, his pale eyes never leaving his former Protector’s face, drinking in every expression on the other’s face. “Taking into account your years of faithful service, however, I have decided to be merciful and allow you to live out your days imprisoned on the Mothership. I look forward to working closely with you. There are some new… treatments I am truly looking forward to trying.”

Even with all his training, Sandoval could not help but react to that. He had helped Zo’or develop some of those “treatments”. He knew exactly what they were.

“You will, of course, be stripped of your Companion Protector status,” Zo’or added. “And the Director of the FBI has informed me that you will also be expelled from your position there. But don’t worry. I will make sure that you will have very little time to miss your old responsibilities. Do you have any questions?”

The former Companion Protector found it difficult to breathe. It took him several attempts to be able to get enough air into his lungs to speak, and when he did, the only question that he could come up with was a very weak-sounding “Why?”

Zo’or’s answering smile only reinforced his resemblance to a cat playing with its helpless prey.

“I have decided that you were a liability, Mr Sandoval, so I found a way to turn the situation into an opportunity. Isn’t that the sign of a good leader, after all?” The way the Synod Leader emphasized certain phrases in his answer made it clear that he was expecting his former Protector to recognize the words he was using.

For a second, the words did not make any sense. Then, suddenly, the memory came to him, and Sandoval found his blood freezing in his veins. ”The sign of a good leader is being able to turn every liability into an opportunity.” He had spoken those words once, in the cargo bay of the Mothership, right before attempting to blow up Zo’or and most of the Taelons in stasis under the guise of trying to destroy the Dark Matter that had disabled so much of the ship. Zo’or had been unconscious at the time, however, and on the other side of a huge room. He could not have heard him, could not have even known that the words had ever been said.

The only man who had been close enough to hear those words, the man to whom the former Agent had addressed them to begin with, was… almost of their own accord, Sandoval’s eyes went to the man standing beside Zo’or’s chair. Frank Tate, his right-hand man, the man who had always seemed to hate the Taelons almost as much as he himself did. The man who was standing now, completely comfortable in the presence of Zo’or and Da’an, watching his former superior with a knowing expression that proved he understood exactly what Sandoval was thinking.

“Tate, you…” For one of the first times in his life, Sandoval was completely speechless. He was amazed at how much he was hurt by his former… associate’s betrayal. He had begun to rely on the other man, maybe even trust him a little, and now the bastard had turned around and thrown all that in his face.

Tate shrugged, looking as relaxed as ever. “Sorry, Boss,” he said, looking Sandoval straight in the eyes and not sounding in the least bit sorry. “You know how it is. Always make sure you’re on the winning side. Isn’t that what you’ve always told me?”

“Agent Tate was quite invaluable in obtaining evidence against you, Mr. Sandoval,” Zo’or’s voice interrupted whatever response Sandoval might have made. “His performance at your ANA trial was quite impressive, wouldn’t you say? The way he said just the right thing to implicate you further without making you suspicious of his motives was… inspired. I quite enjoyed watching him.”

Sandoval turned back to his former master, struggling to fight back the wave of panic and despair that threatened to overwhelm him every time he thought about the gravity of his situation.

“If you knew all this before, then why didn’t you order my death after the ANA trial was over, Zo’or?” he asked quietly.

Zo’or’s smile disappeared, and he looked at his former protector with an intensity that was even more frightening than his previous relaxed anticipation. He sat up straight on his command chair, spearing the former Agent with his gaze, and Sandoval had to force himself to hold still in order to keep from flinching away from the look in the Taelon’s eyes.

“Agent Tate has told me what you said to me when you attempted to murder me while I was immobilized by the Dark Matter.” Sandoval’s eyes widened as he remembered the harsh words he had spoken before his first aborted execution of his former master, when he had tried to expel the Synod Leader’s helpless body into space.

“You told me that you had won. You actually believed that you were capable of defeating me!” The Synod Leader’s eyes seemed almost to glow as he leaned forward to emphasize what he was saying. “From now on, you will know that you live only on my pleasure. I will not let you have any control over your life, not even the little control you exercised when you resigned from my service before that farce of a trial. I will decide when you live and die. I will choose how much pain you will be in. You will learn just how far superior I am to all you puny humans!”

Caught in the flood of terror that Zo’or’s words had caused, Sandoval did the only thing he could think of to preserve his sanity. Forgetting the betrayals of the past few months, he turned to the one person whose memory had helped him survive the terrible months working as Zo’or’s Protector and virtual slave. The woman that he had loved more than anything in the universe, except perhaps for one other tiny being whose blood had saved his life only a year ago and about whom he had heard nothing since. Just one compassionate glance, just one look of pity from the woman he loved, and he knew he would be able to bear anything that Zo’or threw at him.

“Dee Dee…”

But the words died on his lips as he saw the expression on her face. She was laughing at him! Her mouth was twisted in an ugly smile, and her eyes held nothing but bitter contempt for him.

“God, you are pathetic, Ron,” she told him. “How did I ever fall for a loser like you?”

Sandoval felt something break inside him. With a wordless cry he lunged at his wife, not even feeling the strong arms of the two Volunteers who immediately grabbed him and held him back. He did not respond to Zo’or’s voice as he shouted for him to calm down, all the time looking like he was deeply satisfied with the show. He was not aware of Da’an, still standing on the opposite side of Zo’or’s chair, wringing his hands in desperation and calling for him to stop. He did not see Tate jump away from him, his normally relaxed eyes widening with fear. He did not even notice the fleeting expression of sadness that had passed over the face of the woman he was trying to reach, or, in fact, the tears that were falling down his own face. All he cared about was getting to the woman who had just broken his heart and hurting her as much as she had hurt him.

He did not know how long he spent raging against his wife and against all the horrors of his life. It could have been an hour, or it could have been only a few minutes. Even his barely functional but still at times quite accurate CVI was blessedly silent about that. Finally, however, Sandoval’s rage ran out of force and he sagged in his captors’ grip, breathing heavily, feeling a deep sense of sadness and a growing despair replace the anger he had felt just a moment before.

For a time after Sandoval’s fury was spent, everybody seemed to just stay where they were, frozen in place – Da’an standing on one side of the command chair, still wringing his hands, but otherwise not moving; the two humans in place on the other side of the chair breathing hard, still reeling from the fury of Sandoval’s attempted attack on them; Zo’or sitting on his rightful post, watching all that was happening with an air of arrogant superiority, as though proud of his role in orchestrating the events that had just occurred. And Sandoval himself, still supported by the grip of the two Volunteers beside him but already beginning to recover his balance, facing them all. For that moment, everything was quiet, the only sound coming from the heavy breathing of the humans present, and the constant distant noise of the machinery around them.

And then Major Liam Kincaid walked onto the bridge.

***