Identity

"Don't. Stay. Stay here until you find work and let me take care of you in between..."

"James you hardly know me." She laughed a little. It was a game, he was playing with her. He could know who she was. Why else would he lie about his name?

"I know you well enough," he said, looking at her solemnly.

"But...why?"

"I love you. I told you I love you."

"You don't..."

"I do," he replied, kissing her softly.

And the way he said it made it seem so sincere. She reached up and flipped off her communicator. She dropped her accent. "I love you too...James Walker."

"I knew you'd figure out I was lying. Corporate execs don't just appear, do they Agent Johnson?"

"I won't kill you...if you don't kill me."

"I don't plan to kill you."

"You don't love me either." She laughed.

"See that's the problem: I do."

"What?" She laughed.

"You heard me. Needless to say, it complicates the mission."

"Yeah mine too."

"Your friend, Agent Kincaide, she's still safe. Perfectly happy."

"How?"

"Suffice it to say they're getting married, and I'm sure the idea of her being someone's wife is as foreign to you as the idea of his having a wife is to me."

"They...Cass and Spencer?"

"Yes."

"What? No."

"Yes. She picked her dress a couple nights ago."

"No."

"They are, I swear. I don't exactly carry around photographic evidence or anything, but I don't imagine you're wild about porn anyway."

"That's...that's wrong."

"They don't think so."

"I need to talk to her."

"If you come with me... you won't be released."

"If you think I couldn't escape if I wanted to you're crazy. Do your homework. I'm a world class thief. I can slip in and out of things without a problem."

"Not this place."

"I could."

"Houdini couldn't get out of this place if Garrett Spencer didn't want him to."

"I can't just go back to the IMF and act like nothing happened."

"You wouldn't be going back to the IMF."

"I mean now."

He laughed. "We'll be long vanished before you get back."

"And I won't see you again..."

"You might. I hope you do..."

"James come on, be real."

"Don't go back."

"I have to!"

"You don't have any love for the IMF. You joined to get out of jail, and he sure as hell doesn't appreciate you. Not how you deserve. Come with me."

"He does appreciate me..."

"He's into possessions, Cal, he doesn't appreciate *you*, he appreciates having you."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? When he got mad because you'd slept with me, what did he say?"

"He said I wasn't being serious about my job..."

"What else did he say?"

"Nothing." She lied.

"He said you were his, didn't he? Like a child clamoring for candy."

"How do you know what he said?"

"I know a lot of things."

"Yes James. He said I was his."

"It doesn't sound flattering coming from a man who's never said he loves you."

"I never said he did."

"He doesn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because he treats you like shit, Cal."

"He does not. And don’t call me that."

"He does. And what would you prefer to be called?"

"Agent Johnson." She said, her guard flying up.

"Alright, Agent Johnson. Agent Callahan fails to treat you the way you deserve."

"And what do I deserve?"

"You deserve someone who loves you. Who appreciates you and appreciates your talents and doesn't just want to own you. Someone who'll take you to an opera even though he hates it because you said you liked theater!"

"Someone like you..." She whispered, looking down.

"Better, but God knows I'd try."

"But why me?"

"Because I love you."

"I..."

"Come back with me. You'll have Cass... you'll have me..."

"I don't know..."

"You'll be appreciated. Please."

"Okay..."

"Will you come?"

"I...yeah..."

"Then I'm sorry about this." He hit her with a dart from a carefully hidden tranq gun, scooped her up, and carefully carried her to a waiting car.

"I love you," he said quietly, smoothing her hair from her face.

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