The motel parking lot was completely silent. Glancing at his watch, Agent 232 noted that it was just after 2300 hours. 11:00 pm. Not being as familiar with this city as he'd like, 232 was unsure whether the silence was normal, or a clever ruse designed to put him -- or someone like him -- off his guard, to cause a misstep and allow the enemy to gain the upper hand in the confrontation to come.

Stop it, he told himself. Jeannine isn't the enemy. Even if Command says she is.

He'd been chosen for this assignment because he was the only agent whose skills came even close to matching hers. She had trained him herself, and he'd been the best student she'd ever had.

Now, according to certain information obtained by Command -- information he had no way of confirming -- she'd gone rogue. Turned traitor. Agent 232 refused to believe it. There was absolutely no way.

The mission was a simple one, one which he'd performed on numerous other occasions. Neutralize the target. It was a handy term, he thought. It took some of the brutality out of the word "murder" -- and no matter what way they wanted to see it, they had ordered him to murder his mentor. His confidante. His friend.

He pulled the pistol from the holster inside his jacket, then eased the car door open. He'd flipped the overhead switch earlier, so the car light didn't come on. As agent 232 made his way to room 232 of the motel -- a cruel coincidence, he decided -- the car door remained inconspicuously ajar.

The door of the motel room was locked, as he expected. He would also expect the night security latch to be engaged, but those two issues were easily handled. The hard part would be unlocking the bolt without external access. He considered using a standard laser, then disregarded it -- too messy. From experience, he knew they weren't usually as strong as most people were led to believe. A kick in the right spot would snap it out of the door frame. It would be loud, and it would alert Agent 35 -- Jeannine, he reminded himself.

And that's why you'll do it that way, his persistant inner voice scolded. You don't want to catch her.

The voice was right, and seconds later, a quick kick produced the desired effect.

Leading with the pistol, Agent 232 rushed into the room, half expecting Jeannine to be up and shooting at him, half expecting her to be still in bed and shooting at him. Neither occured.

The room appeared completely empty. There was no sign of anyone.

Until a click near his left ear and a pressure at the back of his head signalled that someone was, indeed, present. Closet, he guessed.

"Drop it, Cal," her soft, feminine voice ordered. "And slowly turn around."

He did as ordered, and as he looked at her, he knew exactly what had happened. She was in a grey t-shirt and gym shorts, her standard bedding attire, and as he had guessed, the closet door just to the other side of the entrance was open. She had obviously heard the car approach and took appropriate precautions.

"Sloppy," she commented as she patted him down for additional weapons. "I had expected better from the Agency's second best assassin. What's the matter, Calvin? You getting soft?"

The search over, she motioned to one of the two beds in the room, and he sat down. He noticed that she kept her weapon trained on him.

"You might say that," he replied. "You know why I'm here, don't you?"

"Sent to kill the rogue agent, if I know procedure."

He nodded. "But I know you better than that, Jeannie. That's why I couldn't do it."

Jeannine's weapon lowered slightly as her curiosity was piqued. "I'm listening."

"There's no way you'd betray the Organization. So I want to hear it from you. What the hell is going on?"

She lowered her weapon completely, resetting the safety without even having to think about it. "It's pretty simple, really. Either they're right, and I've gone bad... or I've been framed." Her gaze made him shift uncomfortably. "You decide which."

He shook his head. "Inadequate data for a correct decision. I can neither confirm nor deny what I've been told without further information. The dilemma here is that as far as I know, the Organization always has good reasons for doing what it does. If they say you've gone rogue and you need to be neutralized...then it makes a great deal of sense to assume that you've gone rogue and you need to be neutralized. And yet, here we are. I don't believe you to be capable of it, Jeannine. I came here hoping for answers."

"You expect me to provide them?" She still had that irritating habit of sounding mildly amused when he was deadly serious.

"You already have." At her blank look, he added, "If you had truly gone bad, you would have killed me just now. You had more than sufficient opportunity. Leaving me alive would be a truly unacceptable risk in that scenario. My continued existence assures me of your continued good will."

"Do you want some coffee?"

He stared at her, unable to follow the jump in subjects.

"Calvin, you only get this painfully logical when you're exhausted, but there's no time for you to sleep. I have a lot to tell you, and there's not much time."

"About who framed you?"

"Among other things." She handed him a thermos. "Come on. We have to leave. I'll tell you on the way."

"Somewhere safe...if anywhere can be considered safe."

Jeannine took the time to duck in the bathroom to get dressed. As she did so, Cal wondered what had brought her from Organization's darling to most wanted, dead or alive. He remembered the way he had first felt on meeting Jeannine. She had seemed cold and aloof. Beautiful but dangerous. He didn't know then that she had a wicked sense of humor.

When she was finished dressing, they didn't exit from the front door. If the two of them were seen leaving together, Cal's designation would turn to rogue even more quickly than Jeannie's had. Instead, they went out through the bathroom window. It was a tight squeeze, but Calvin made it through. He realized then, that Jeannie could have escaped when she heard him outside the door. She must have made a conscious decision to trust in the relationship that they had. Cal's stomach went cold as he thought of the very real alternative road that events could have taken. If he had followed orders blindly, Jeannine would be dead...an innocent woman, and his friend.