Deirdre moaned and opened her eyes. Her head didn't hurt at all, which was odd for her. Curiously, Deirdre ran her hands over her head and found a closed incision, high on the back of her neck.

She frowned, not recognizing her bed or the room. She was in a hospital bed not her own. Where a bank of monitors and a huge desk had been, there existed only a curtain. The head of her bed had been raised about half way to a sitting position.

Fears pressed as she remembered being a captive of Orage, of awakening often in the same situation. Was she a captive again? Had Black Hawk betrayed her? God, help me! she begged silently.

Trust Me, He replied again. Am I not in control of all things?

"Yes, Lord," she whispered in reply. "Help me in my unbelief."

His warm love washed over her. Not unbelief, Dear One, just fear. Do not be afraid, for I am with you, even to the end of the age.

Calmed, by her Lord's assurances,Deirdre deliberately pushed the call button. A mountain of a man with his head shaved bald entered the room. "Hi, you must be Patches. I'm Doc." His white teeth contrasted against the darkness of his skin and his accent spoke of the deep south.

"Let me guess, the Arizona base?" Deirdre guessed, recognizing the device strapped to the man's wrist, if not the man. That he'd called her by her operative name was a dead-giveaway beside. "Where's Black Hawk? He's a patient of mine."

Doc grinned. "He was here for a while, but we moved him to detention before you started waking up. He won't be going anywhere for a while though. He's worse off than you are . . . were. How ya' feeling?"

Taking a moment to assess herself, Deirdre smiled. "Aside from the staples at the base of my skull and some really fuzzy teeth, I feel great. Wow, thanks a lot, Doc. This is the first time in a long time that I haven't had a headache. What did you do to me?"

He held up a metal hospital basin and crossed the small cubicle to hand it to her. "Take a look." Inside lay a blue, rubbery mass. Small blood vessels had grown into it and it still pulsed with some life.

"What the . . ?" Deirdre whistled.

"It came out of your brain. From what Black Hawk told us and as near as Gizmo can figure out, it's some sort of computer chip made out of bio-plastic with synthetic nerves. It used the electrical impulses of your nerves to run and was programmed to make connections with certain parts of your brain. Unfortunately, Splicer messed up his computer codes, so it was making the wrong connections.

"Instead of giving you super-human strength when signaled, it was interfering with motor coordination and the pain center. Kind of neat, actually; I'm thinking of experimenting with the idea myself, if I can figure out the programming. I'll have to reverse engineer it to do it but Gizmo wants to help so we might actually manage it."

Deirdre grinned. "Good luck with that then. What kind of anesthesia did you use?"

He frowned. "I used a general anesthesia and then a sleep-aid after it wore off so you wouldn't feel any side effects once you woke up- aside from cotton-mouth, that is. I can't help that one. Need a drink?"

He handed Deirdre a paper cup with water in it. Deirdre accepted it with a smile and drank it. When she was done, she crumpled the cup and tossed it into a nearby trash basket. Given the distance, she felt silently grateful when it went in.

"Well, I guess it's time to see if I can go longer than six-and-a-half minutes on my feet." She swung her legs over the side of her hospital bed and slowly stood up. "Doc, would you please escort me to detention? I really would like to check on my patient."

"Why do I need to do that? You have a comm on." Doc frowned at her.

"It's been a while." Deirdre favored him with a wry smile. She glanced around the cubicle and opened a door. As she expected, several coveralls were stacked in the cupboard, all of varying sizes. She grabbed one.

"Everything and nothing changes around here, does it?" Deirdre murmured. "I have yet to hear a familiar name and yet I remember designing this room, even helped to build it ten years ago. I bet everything is still stored where I put it."

"Some things have changed," a familiar voice said as someone else joined them.

"Sarge!" cried Deirdre. He went to hug her but she swung a fist and punched him square in the jaw as soon as he was within reach, all the rage and anger of the previous decade rearing up. It was wrong of her, but she only recognized it after the fact.

Doc stared while the older man rubbed his jaw. "I suppose I deserved that," he admitted. "It's General now, though. Drake took my old spot."

"That kid?" Deirdre scoffed. "Glad to hear he survived at least." Her sarcasm was a bit out of line, too, but she was too angry to heed the Holy Spirit's warning.

Doc stared at them while the general called for Drake on his device. "What the heck happened ten years ago?" Doc asked when the general said nothing about Patches' assault.

"She saved my life," Drake answered the big man since he'd entered the room on the heels of the general's summons. Deirdre realized he must have been waiting just outside. "I was wounded, lying in the back of a jeep while Patches did her thing. The general was driving and hit something, a fallen tree I think. Anyway, she fell off and I was too weak for the general to hear me over the motor. We reached the rendezvous point before anyone but me knew she was gone.

"We went back but there was no sign of her," continued the general with an apologetic glance at Deirdre.

"And I spent six months as the guest of Dr. Splicer and Orage's Commandant," Deirdre finished as the anger slowly faded. Knowing Drake- Sergeant Drake- had tried, at least, mollified her anger at him.

"He did a real number on you, too," Doc told her. "Black Hawk explained it to us and we were able to remove that thing I showed you. We fixed your brain and glued your skull but you'll have to deal with the staples for a few days." His voice betrayed wonder when he added, "that dude saved your life."

Deirdre whipped the curtain open to her cubicle and hid herself between the folds of curtain and the bare wall so she could don coveralls in semi-privacy. "So General Graves; what's changed in ten years?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm at bay, still angry with him.

Doc cut in, trying to turn Deirdre's attention away from her own anger. "I hear you're a top surgeon, Patches. What's your specialty?"

Dr. Hall finished dressing and stepped out to glare at the other men before answering. "I am currently specializing in cardio-pulmonary surgery, but I'm also certified in gastrointestinal surgery and in emergency surgery."

"Hence the name 'Patches'," put in Drake for Doc's benefit, "because wherever you get hurt, she patches you up."

Deirdre ignored him entirely. "And you, Doc? What's your area of expertise?"

Doc squirmed. "Emergency nursing. I'm a field medic. Most of what I do is basic before they go to a hospital, and that's a real shame with the setup we have here. Patches, ah, what I did for you is well beyond the purview of my license; if you want to come back, I sure could use the help!"

"So, it would seem," agreed Deirdre with a smile at the big man. "The problem is, Doc, I'm not sure I'm ready to trust my life to these . . ." She thrust her thumb at the general and refused to voice the word. ". . . again. I'm not real sure I'll ever be ready. I had a device. It even worked. It still works! They should have found me."

She turned her full attention to the shame-faced general. "I spent six months, six months being tortured and carved up by Dr. Splicer and the Commandant. The only reason I escaped is because they let me go, thinking I was dead anyway. Then I got home, was summarily given a medical discharge and spent the next ten years in almost unendurable agony while the civilian doctors told me it was all in my mind. Now, the only reason you could help at all is because one of Orage's own told you how to fix me. You tell me. What reason do I have to trust you?"

"About as much as we have for trusting you," the general shot back, growing impatient with her. "After all, you did side with Black Hawk over Nakimura, and you seem to be very attached to him, at that!"

"Agreed," Deirdre snapped. "Doc, sorry, but I don't think I should stay. I'm going home." Even as she said it, Deirdre knew she'd likely regret the decision. She missed the division, missed being a part of it, but wasn't sure she was ready to admit it.

Drake held up one hand. "Patches, please," he begged. "I'm sorry. It was my fault the tracker failed. The devices were new and we hadn't ever had to use the tracker. Orage's Commandant figured out the frequency and jammed it. The new ones are better, I promise. We've implemented procedures to track every device, every mission, and Orage can't jam the signal, I promise. Losing you that way . . . I never want to lose another team member like that again."

"Congratulations, Patches, it's been ten minutes!" Doc beamed as he looked at his watch. Deirdre shook his hand and ran from the room, not consciously thinking about her decision. Deep down, she merely wanted to thank the man who'd saved her life.

"Where's she going?" she heard Drake ask in bewilderment.

"Detention, I think," Doc replied in a puzzled voice just before she was out of earshot.

Deirdre found that she remembered the layout of the base as if she'd never left it. There had been a lot of ongoing upkeep over the time she'd been away, a lot of upgrades in fixtures and equipment- but the basic layout was still the same. Soon, Deirdre was standing just outside an unmarked, solid metal door. "Detention, this is Patches to see a prisoner."

"Copy that, Patches; Sandy out." The door opened automatically to reveal a man of Native American descent. "You must be new. I'm Sandy." He smiled at her. "Who are you here to see?"

Deirdre stepped into the guardroom. Sandy sat in an office chair in front of a bank of monitors. Every cell had a camera that monitored the occupant and sent a readout of the prisoner's vital statistics- how much he ate, how often the toilet flushed, any unusual behaviors or body sounds that the camera and microphone picked up, to the monitors in Sandy's console. The setup was new from what Deirdre remembered. Opposite him was another door, this one leading to the corridor with the cells.

"I'm Patches, came in with a masked ninja wearing an Orage insignia on his chest," she told him. She wasn't 'new', so hadn't required the orientation for new members, which also meant she hadn't met everyone.

Sandy nodded. "Black Hawk's in number one, our cell for wounded prisoners. I'll open it for you as soon as you get there."

"Thanks, Sandy." Deirdre left the room, not bothering to tell him she knew that already, and eyed the numbers painted on the doors; all just as she remembered it. As soon as Deirdre was standing in front of the proper door, she keyed her communicator. "Sandy, open One, please?"

"Sure thing, Patches." Sandy's cheerful voice accompanied an audible click as the door unlocked. Deirdre grabbed the handle of the door, yanked it open and stepped through. Behind her, the door closed again and locked.

Cell one was more like the infirmary than a jail cell. A locked cabinet containing medical supplies was bolted to the floor near the door and four hospital beds were separated by curtains. Unlike the infirmary, however, every bed was equipped with leather manacles on both sides of the bed. Nothing inside the cell, except perhaps the wiring and newer beds, had changed.

<><

Black Hawk tolerated the manacles on his bed, chose to use his captivity as time to rest a little until he had a chance to escape. When that would be, Black Hawk didn't know- but neither did he much care, knowing that Dr. Hall was finally being helped.

Deep in his musings, Black Hawk assumed her muffled voice to be a product of his own longings at first, but the sound of the infirmary door opening assured him that her voice was real. "Deirdre?" Black Hawk asked. Not wanting to miss her, he slipped his hands from the tethers and headed around the curtain, rubbing his wrists as he did so. The manacles on the base's bed were tighter than Deirdre's.

A microphone piped in the guard's irritation. "Hey! You're supposed to be tied to a bed!"

"I've had quite a bit of practice escaping those lately," Black Hawk explained calmly, drinking in the sight of Dr. Hall's smile.

Deirdre laughed. "Well, at least I'm not insane," she quipped, as if she'd already known the answer to the unasked question.

He shook his head and smiled widely under his mask, recognizing her gentle tease. "No, you're not insane."

"And it was you who activated the comm?" she asked. He nodded again, working to quell his emotions and not trusting his voice to keep them. "Why, if you knew you'd be arrested?" Her concern washed over him.

Feeling dizzy, Black Hawk opened his curtain and sat down on the edge of his bed. Deirdre caught his limp immediately though he tried to hide it. She looked into his eyes as if noticing them for the first time.

Deirdre followed him to stand beside the bed and motioned for him to get back in it. Obediently, Black Hawk swung his legs up onto the bed. When he'd raised the head to a reclining position, she sat down beside him, perching herself on the edge of the bed.

The nearness was almost enough to drive Black Hawk insane. He lifted his mask enough to reveal his face. That he'd been allowed by ECHO to keep it never failed to amaze him. "They had to open up the stitches and cut even farther to get all the infection," he explained, "but they gave me blood and antibiotics, at least."

Deirdre nodded and bit her lip, no doubt remembering the original wound and picturing the damage done by infection. "I'm really glad you didn't lose your leg," she said softly. "The wound was so close to the artery and the infection . . ."

"And I," he agreed, not letting her fret despite how much he liked it that she was worrying over him. "You fainted and I couldn't wake you up. Calling the ECHOs was the only thing I could think of that would do any good."

"And now the tiger is caged," she whispered sadly. Black Hawk's heart soared.

"For now," he agreed solemnly, but his wink told her he would not suffer confinement for long.

"Why didn't you leave before they came?" Her voice was one of puzzlement.

Black Hawk shrugged a little. "You saved my life. It was a debt that had to be repaid and I knew that if I didn't tell them about the patch, they would never figure it out in time." He grinned, making light of his own emotions. "I'll let the ECHOs explain that part though."

"Yes, they did figure it out. Doc explained it to me. Thank you."

"I almost wish I hadn't," he confessed.

"Why not?" His breath caught in his throat as she stared down into his eyes, saw the emotions surely reflected in the expression on his face. Black Hawk felt breathless when he looked at her.

She was seeing past the scars, looking at him as if they didn't even exist. Black Hawk knew that honor dictated that he must leave, that he must continue on his task for his master and he hated the thought of it. Words failed him as his brain tried to process the myriad of emotions that welled up inside.

He leaned forward and kissed her gently, hoping it would explain what his words could not. Unexpectedly, she responded to his kiss so he deepened it briefly before he drew back, quelling the thrill he felt from the taste of her lips, stifling his own wants, needs and desires for the sake of his mission as always. "Because I must leave soon now that the debt is repaid. You are with your own kind again and I must go back where I belong as well."

Deirdre grabbed the front of his gi and pulled him toward herself, taking her time as she kissed him. Her kiss seemed to work its way to the very center of his being. He returned her kiss until she should choose to end it, despite the emotions that threatened to overwhelm his control, despite knowing it would only hurt him in the end. He wrapped his arms around her and settled her comfortably as the kiss continued. "Don't go," she whispered after a while.

"Rats cannot live with cats, no matter how beautiful the cat may be, and certainly not with dogs," he reminded her, reminded himself. He wanted to stay so desperately! She cringed and started to apologize but he hushed her. "You are right," Black Hawk whispered despite the pain that his own words caused him. "I am not worthy of you."

"Then take me with you," she suggested. He could see for himself that she knew it would be impossible.

"I would not see the tiger caged." Black Hawk thought of what might be if she were to follow him. Deirdre looked into his eyes, so he allowed her to see the love and the pain in them. "My loyalty must go one way and my heart another," he explained. "Remember me. You will never be far from my heart." He allowed himself the luxury of kissing her again before slipping his mask back into place, his heart already feeling the pain of loss.

"I love you, Deirdre, or D.D., or Patches, or Dr. Hall or whatever you choose as a name. I will not forget you." He slipped his hands back inside the buckles of the manacles and closed his eyes. "You should go, Patches. The others will be waiting for you."

"I'll come back," she promised, but he only shook his head, discouraging her lest he lose his own strength of will.

<><

Regretfully, Deirdre took her leave, thanking Sandy on her way out as she made her way back to the infirmary.

Doc was waiting for her. "Hey, you need to take it easy for a while, Patches. I guess I should have told you how much blood you lost. You're gonna' be tired for a while. Why not take a nap, huh?" She wondered if he knew exactly how tired she was.

"That sounds like a good idea." Deirdre laid herself down on the bed and leaned her head back against the pillow, shaking. Was it possible to find and lose the love of her life in the same moment? Her entire existence was changed forever.

Why, God? He didn't answer.

She wished she could close her eyes and wake up back in her apartment, having dreamed the entire thing; but the short line of surgical staples at the base of her skull were real enough to tell her that the entire, surreal experience was truly happening. Did she love Black Hawk? Deirdre considered it and decided that she might.

Despite his scars, he was still a rather handsome man. His accent, a mixture of his native Japanese and the British of whoever had taught him to speak English, made her spine do interesting things whenever he spoke in that baritone with the gravelly lilt to it. And obviously, since the tethers didn't seem to hamper him as much as she'd wanted to believe, he'd stayed in her apartment of his own volition and had taken care of her when she'd been ill despite his own injuries.

When she'd fainted, he could very well have left after calling in ECHO but he'd stayed, enduring his own capture in order to save her life. Obviously, he felt she belonged with ECHO, even to the point of denying himself the pleasure of her company in exchange for her own happiness.

Despite her growing love for Black Hawk, Deirdre knew he was right and that she'd rather be an ECHO. It felt like home to her still and she still loved the men and women she served with, despite everything that had happened. It was time to forgive. With that in mind, Deirdre's thoughts drifted until she fell asleep. After a nap of several hours, Deirdre felt refreshed and ready to go again.

"You okay?" Doc asked as soon as he entered the room, seeing that she was awake. Deirdre yawned and nodded, wiping away the tears her yawn had brought. "That's quite a lot for one day," he agreed with sympathy. "Unfortunately, we're not done just yet."

General Graves poked his head around the corner. "I need to know; are you in, or not?"

A moment later, someone's voice came over both of their communicators. Deirdre's crackled, outdated as it was. "Attention, ECHO Personnel: prisoner escaped! I repeat; a prisoner has escaped!"

"Black Hawk," groaned the general. "Wait until I catch up with Gizmo!" He keyed his device. "Seal the base! This is the general, I repeat, seal the base! Over."

Soon the devices were alive with radio traffic. "Gizmo from Drake, where are you? Over."

"South runway, clear, over!"

"North road, clear, over!"

"East look-out, clear, over!"

"West runway reports incoming chopper. I repeat, incoming chopper, bearing the seal of the United States of America, over."

With a grin, Deirdre keyed her device. "General from Patches, you're not going to find him and if I know Black Hawk, it would be a safe guess that chopper is carrying one US Senator Hall, over." From the other end of the room, the general rolled his eyes and shook his head at her. Deirdre chuckled. He grinned.

"West Runway from General Graves; roll out the welcome mat, over."

"Doc from Rusty; report a man down in south corridor 4. Prepare an exam room for incoming wounded, over."

"Drake, from Gizmo," came the last bit, ending with a moan.

"Gizmo, Drake here; don't sweat it. Only Nakimura could have handled that transport, and Nakimura's out on assignment, over."

Seconds after the last transmission, Rusty arrived with Gizmo. Deirdre jumped out of bed and, after a cursory exam of the patient, started moving equipment around. "Doc, set up the scans. We have a possible concussion and I want to check for nerve damage in his right shoulder."

"So, does that mean you're back, Major?" the general asked.

Patches grinned at him and winked. "Once an ECHO . . ."

"Always an ECHO," everyone chimed in.

"So, what was that . . ?" Drake sounded confused as he pointed at Patches and the general in turn.

"Oh that!" laughed the general. "If I know Patches, she was getting me back for our last sparring match."

"I'd forgotten about that!" laughed Patches as she ran the scans. "Sorry to tell you, General, that was payback for ten years' worth of you not hearing me cuss you out. Gizmo, I suggest a few days off from missions. You're going to have a nice headache for a couple of days, your shoulder is going to twinge off and on- numb fingers occasionally, but nothing that won't heal."

The general's device sounded. "General, there's someone to see you."

"On my way, Dusty," sighed the general. "Patches, I'd get dressed if I were you. You are out of uniform, after all. Oh, and see Gizmo about a new comm later."

"Tell my dad I'll join you all in a bit, when I'm in uniform." The general winked at her to show he'd heard and headed toward where the senator would be debarking from his plane.

When everything had slowed down, Doc looked at Patches over their respective paperwork. "Did you help that prisoner escape?"

"No, but I knew he was going to. He saved my life, Doc. It was the least I could do, and the general let him go because it was Black Hawk that activated the device to begin with."

"But you were wearing it!" Doc protested.

"Not when I fainted," Patches only shrugged, not bothering to explain. She thought he could guess accurately anyway.

Senator Hall was one of a very few civilians aware of the ECHOs' quiet service. His job was to procure funding for their bases, gear and pay. As the liaison for the ECHOs, he was rather pleased to hear of his daughter's return to the unit, almost as pleased as hearing that she was cured of her debilitating neural problems. He agreed to spread a cover story to explain Patches' sudden disappearance and to pack up her apartment for her. Patches was finally back where she belonged.

That night, Deirdre slept in a temporary bunk, reflecting on the events of the previous few days. Oh, she told the Lord sheepishly, that's what You had planned from all of this! Thank You, Father!

His love was tinged with amusement. In part, He allowed. I am not done yet! Wait and see, what your obedience will bring to those around you.

Deirdre grinned sleepily and wondered where she could borrow a Bible, until hers arrived from her apartment.

<><