Darkside

By Marqaisa McAdams

Fandom: War of the Worlds

Main character: Colonel Ironhorse and original female character.

Disclaimer: War of the Worlds and all it's characters belong to Paramount.

Bret McAdams belongs to me. I'm doing this for the fun of it, not for the money, so don't sue me.

Rated: R - NC-17

Objectionable words and sexual situation.

If you're easily offended or do not read such stories don't read any further.

Category: PWP/Angst (?)

Enjoy,

Marq:)

By Marqaisa McAdams.

Bret rounded the corner with her gun at chest level ready for any alien attack. She edged along the wall, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit hallway. Feeling along the walls with her right hand while her left hand kept her gun steady. Without warning a slimy three fingered hand grabbed her by the throat and pressed on her jugular. Bret tried to break free, but another one of his comrades assisted the first alien. The second alien forced Bret's arm against the wall and injected something inside of her through a syringe. Bret felt the pressure decrease as a shot rang out. The alien before her dissolved into a mixture of green goo and melted human skin. The stench of it penetrated Bret's olfactory nerve. Still feeling the pressure on her neck, Bret fumbled for her small but lethal knife on her right side and plunged it into the alien's heart. She was rewarded with a much-needed release. The alien dissolved within centimeters of his comrade.

Bret closed her eyes and tried to regain her regular breathing pattern. She felt weak and her body started to slide down the wall when two strong hands grabbed her and stood her up straight. Bret knew it could be only one man.

"Paul," she gasped as he pulled her away from the alien remains.

"Bret, are you okay?" Paul asked, checking Bret over in a better-lit area. She shook her head and held up her right arm.

"No, th-they injected something into me, Paul. I need Suzanne to take a sample-"

Ironhorse peered closely at the obvious needle hole in Bret's arm. He felt Bret slipping down and grabbed her again. Ironhorse picked her up and carried her outside, barking an order for the Omegans to start clean up procedures. The soldiers hurried to accomplish the task they were used to. Harrison was pacing the length of the Bronco when he saw Paul walking out with a limp and pale form that he recognized as Bret McAdams in the Colonel's arms.

"What happened to Bret?" Harrison exclaimed.

"The aliens injected her with something. We need Suzanne in order to find out what it is," Paul told the astrophysicist, casting a worried look upon his unconscious partner. He carefully put Bret in the back seat and climbed in the back with her. He laid her head on his lap, brushing her red hair from her face. Blackwood jumped into the driver's side and sped out of the cement lot toward the Cottage. Harrison glanced into the rear view mirror and saw Paul looking down at Bret and saying something to her in another language. Cherokee, Harrison assumed.

"Maybe we should take her to the hospital," Blackwood suggested, knowing what the Colonel's response would be.

"No! You know what Bret is, Harrison. If the doctor's found out..." Paul's voice trailed off as he looked out of the window watching the city fading into country side.

"Besides, we don't know what the aliens injected her with, so taking Bret to the hospital is the last thing we want to do. Let's just hope Suzanne can figure it out soon and come up with some kind of antidote or something to cure Bret."

Harrison nodded. He knew Ironhorse had strong feelings toward Bret, but he would never act on them if, either Bret didn't seem interested or if she didn't make the first move.

"What was that you were talking to Bret about before? In Cherokee I assumed."

"Yes, it was Cherokee," Paul said absently. "It was a healing prayer."

Harrison smiled. He was glad Bret and Paul were so close as partners and friends that it would make Paul forget about his tough exterior and genuinely open up to someone like Bret.

"Well, we don't exactly know if - whatever Bret was injected with, really effected her. Plus, considering she's well, immortal, it probably will be washed away, so to speak, in her healing process," Harrison said hopefully.

Paul shook his head and said," I'm not willing to take that risk- not with Bret. Are you?"

Harrison glanced back to see a dead serious look on Paul's face unlike any looks he's given Harrison before. There was a fear in the Cherokee's raven eyes. It scared Blackwood a little. He pulled into the Cottage and the guards asked him his password. He supplied them with the info they needed and they allowed him to pass. Parking the Bronco, Harrison offered to take Bret inside, but was only silenced by Paul's glare. Ironhorse gently pulled Bret out of the back seat and into his arms. He carried the still unconscious Bret inside and into her room while Harrison searched for Suzanne. He found her in the lab, peering through a highly magnified microscope.

"Suzanne, we need you," Blackwood said, gasping for air when he screeched to a halt at her opened doorway.

Suzanne looked up, startled. "What is it?' she asked.

"Bret. The aliens have injected her with something. We need you to find out what it is and how to get it out of her system."

Suzanne jumped up and grabbed a syringe and followed the astrophysicist to the elevator.

"Where is she?" Suzanne asked.

"In her room. Paul's with her," Harrison answered as the elevator door closed and took them up to the 2^nd floor where the bedrooms were. The two scientists rushed to Bret's room and rushed in without knocking. They saw Paul Ironhorse holding Bret's hand as she drifted in and out of consciousness, murmuring something in another language that sounded a lot like Cherokee to Harrison. Paul looked up and saw the two scientists come in. Suzanne rushed over and got to work on checking Bret over. She drew blood and left the room to return back to the lab to examine Bret's blood. Harrison watched Paul and Bret interact-even though it was mostly one sided.

"Is Bret speaking Cherokee?" Blackwood asked, getting closer to Bret's bed. He's never seen Paul this sensitive and caring before. It was good to see.

"Yes, Harrison. And Bret is quite fluent in it, too," Paul said, sounding surprised that Harrison didn't know that about Bret.

So, Paul thought smiling to himself, all Bret knowing Harrison doesn't know everything about her. This is interesting.

"Well, I knew Bret could speak many languages, but I didn't know it involved Cherokee," Harrison stuttered, trying to cover up his obvious faux pas. He continued on saying, " That must good for you, Paul. You two must talk in Cherokee in private so both of you can remember the language and how to speak it."

"Yeah, something like that," Paul murmurred, watching Bret's head toss from left to right in delirium.

She tossed this way for 5 minutes until there was a phone call on Bret's in-house line. Paul picked up the phone, hoping it was Suzanne with some news.

"Paul, I have some bad news. I've found traces of the serum in Bret's body, but it's hard to identify as alien origin. It's either adjusting itself into Bret's unusual bloodstream or she's using her healing factors to cleanse it away. I can't really tell at this point..." Suzanne gave a pause like she was hesitant to reveal something to him.

"What is it, Suzanne?" Paul asked in concern.

"Well, there's something else I found. Trace elements of some kind of chemical. I don't know what it is yet. I need more equipment to investigate it further to find out what it is and if Bret needs something to counteract the chemical."

"How can you do that? Where would you go?" Paul asked, concerned for the safety of Bret along with the rest of the group.

"Well, Bret has always given me access to her labs whenever I needed it. So, I'm going to call Kena and tell her what's going on. She will help me and she won't tell the others. That should relieve your concern for safety. Plus, if Harrison's willing, I'll take him with me so you won't have him breathing down your neck."

Paul had to smile. "Thanks, Suzanne. I'll send Harrison right down."

Hanging up the phone, Paul turned to Harrison and told him of Suzanne's idea.

"Wonderful. I'll go right now," Harrison said, smiling, casting one last glance over at Bret's unconscious form, he left the room.

Paul stayed by Bret's side until 11:30 p.m. when he started dozing off. He decided to retire to his own room until the morning when he'd check on her first thing. He debated on whether or not to call Coleman in to watch over Bret.

No, Paul told himself, let Bret alone to sleep off what she needed to.

He hoped her healing powers were working their magic on combating whatever the aliens injected in her.

He looked upon her. She rested more easily now without tossing about. At least he'd be next door if she needed him.

Retreating to his room, Paul didn't bother to turn on his light. Stripping off his clothes, Paul climbed into bed, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep. Finding it, Paul quickly fell into a not so peaceful slumber. His mind filled with disturbing images of the aliens attacking Bret and causing her pain. Those images were instantly replaced by images of a more disturbing nature: Bret being a weapon to the aliens or worse yet, being taken over by the aliens.

Paul woke up in a cold sweat. He swore in Cherokee as he saw on his clock that it was just after midnight and tried to get back to sleep. Paul was rewarded with a more peaceful sleep.

Bret lay in her bed, tossing and turning. The image of the aliens pinning her against the wall and putting something in her body deeply disturbed the young-looking woman's rest. She pushed the thoughts from her mind and focused on something more pleasant. That something was the handsome Lt. Col. Paul Ironhorse. She could still feel the warm touch of his hands on her body as he rescued her from a fate worse than death by beheading. How she could stand not getting physical with the ruff 'n tuff Army officer was beyond her. Bret smiled at the thousand times her and Paul touched each other with more than a friendly fashion. Her eyes fluttered open. Sitting up, Bret felt like a new woman. She had her priorities straight and she had to thank the aliens for that. No longer will she watch others find a match while she stands on the sidelines and lives out another lifetime of loneliness and celibacy.

Bret knew what she wanted and there was no time better than the present to go after it.

Climbing out of her bed, she frowned down at her wardrobe.

This will not do, Bret thought to herself as she slipped off her jumpsuit and took off her underwear and bra. She pulled open her bureau drawer where all her night gowns and pajamas laid in neat piles and rows. Bret picked up satin velvet colored nightgown that she never wore before. It had been a gift from her sister, Mara, for her birthday. Before, Bret had preferred a tank top and boxers to sleep in, but that was before she had her epiphany. Slipping the nightgown over her slim but built frame, Bret looked at herself in a full-length mirror.

"Very nice, McAdams, very nice. Let's just hope he thinks the same," Bret said softly to herself.

She moved to the door that led to the hallway. Putting her hand on the door she stretched out with the Force and checked to see if there was anyone out roaming the halls. Satisfied that the coast was clear, Bret slipped out of her room and walked a few steps to Paul's room. Slowly turning the knob, she pushed the door open without even the slightest of noise. Squeezing in the 45 degree opening, Bret closed the door and walked to the foot of the bed. There he was, Bret told herself as she watched Paul Ironhorse sleeping in an interesting position. With one leg pulled in while the other remained straightened, his chest uncovered by the lone sheet covering most of his lower body save that lone straight leg. One of arms lay over his head while the other stretched above him.

Bret could tell that Paul slept in the nude thanks to the telltale sign the sheet was giving her. Paul let out a soft sigh as he moved his head to the side for a more comfortable position.

Bret licked her lips in anticipation at the thought of fulfilling her secret sexual fantasy with the one man who she knew could satisfy her every need. She gently pulled away the sheet that covered most of Paul's lucious body. Her eyes widened somewhat at the size of him. Not too big, not too small. Just right. Just perfect like the rest of his body was. Bret's eyes took in his form from head to toe. His body was magnificent to behold. Just the right amount of muscles in all the right places. She climbed on the foot of Paul's bed and started kissing and licking him from toe to head. She felt his body shift nervously below her. Soft moans escaped his sensuous looking lips as Bret moved up to his manhood. Hesitating for a split second, Bret dove down to kiss it tenderly. Licking the length of him she felt Paul shudder with, she hoped, was excitement. A louder moan escaped him as she began to take him in her mouth, her tongue stroking him teasingly.

Sweat started to show up on Paul's face as he struggled to awaken, but at the same time he didn't want to wake up. He had never had a dream this vivid before especially about a woman- a certain woman: Bret. In his dream, Bret had come to him in his bedroom late one night. She was a wonderful lover like he long suspected. After one coupling, Bret went down and teased his manhood by kissing it and do other delightful things with her mouth. Paul felt himself throbbing from his dream. He forced himself out of his sexual dream, aching from a desperate need to couple with Bret. His dark lashes fluttered open and Paul couldn't believe what he was seeing. There Bret was straddling him, torturing his manhood with her skillful mouth. He blinked several times thinking he was still dreaming.

NO, Paul said firmly, this is no dream. It's too real.

He knew he was awake. He watched Bret as she continued licking him. Paul wasn't sure if he should stop her or not. She might be sleepwalking and Paul knew from reading an article that you shouldn't wake the sleepwalker up. If Bret was sleepwalking she definitely didn't know what she was doing. He had to stop her, but at the same time he didn't want to. A moan escaped him as Bret started to take him deeper inside her mouth. Throwing his head back, Paul tried his best to keep from coming. His right hand instinctively reached out and found her head. His fingers combed through her soft red hair as Bret brought him to an incredible climax.

Stop her, Paul told himself sternly. She doesn't know what she's doing; the logical part of his mind scolded him.

Yes, she does, the sensual side of Paul whispered. She's doing a great job of pleasing you for someone who doesn't know what she's doing.

Paul moaned louder, wanting release. Bret looked up and saw that Paul was looking at her. His raven eyes were bright with desire. She stopped her sweet torture on him and crawled up to his head, kissing his chest as she went. Licking his pecks, Bret was happy that Paul was turned on by her worship of his body.

Kissing Paul's neck and ears Bret whispered, "I'm glad you're awake. I was beginning to think I had to do something more drastic to wake you."

Paul closed his eyes for a moment as he felt her straddle him like she was ready to ride him. He groaned as his body reacted to the touch of hers. He peered into Bret's aqua colored eyes and knew. She was wide-awake and fully aware of what she was doing. Bret smiled seductively and moved her lower body over his throbbing manhood making him moan even louder.

What has gotten into Bret? Paul asked himself.

She never acted like this before. They've never even kissed each other let alone venture into each other's bedrooms when the mood hit them. If that was the case Paul would be visiting Bret in her room every night since the day he met her. She aroused him that much, but he kept it well hidden from her and the others. Paul suspected Bret was too shy to pursue the man she wanted. Paul simply figured he wasn't that man until he woke up to find Bret attending to him with her delightful mouth and sultry tongue.

Paul's mind snapped back to attention when he heard her whispering into his ear, telling him what she would like to do to him. Paul blushed at Bret's naughty little thoughts. This other side of Bret was both shocking and exciting to him. Although he was quite willing to explore those ideas of hers with Bret, he knew that this Bret before him wasn't his Bret.

She started pulling her nightgown up when his hands grasped onto hers to stop her. He wanted Bret; he didn't deny that, but not like this...not this way.

She frowned at him, disappointed that he didn't want to see what she was offering him. He rolled her over so she was pinned underneath him. She grinned when she realized her nightgown had slipped up to her waist and Paul's package was touching her womanhood without any obstacles. Paul groaned again when he realized they were, indeed, flesh to flesh. And it didn't help matters when Bret started rubbing her body provocatively against his. It took sheer will power for Paul not to take her then and there.

Only the fact that Bret wasn't herself pulled the cobwebs of desire and lust from his mind, allowing him to see that this Bret underneath him was her darker soul, not the Bret that he loved and admired from afar. Paul wondered how he could snap her out of this UN-Bret-like behavior. His eyes focused on her lips. He realized that Bret never kissed him on the mouth. A kiss on the mouth was a personal thing to Paul and he suspected it was personal to Bret too. If he kissed her perhaps it might snap her out of this wanton behavior, Paul rationalized.

Is that the only reason you're doing it? His practical mind asked.

Paul pushed the insinuating question away from his thoughts. Paul lowered his head to capture Bret's lovely lips with his. She turned her face to the left to avoid the kiss. His lips made contact with her cheek. Paul rose up and knew that kissing her on the lips could possibly bring the real Bret back. He tried again, but to no avail.

"Why won't you let me kiss you?" Paul asked her as she struggled to regain control of the situation.

Paul pulled Bret's arms over her head and tried to kiss her again. Bret avoided the unwanted embrace yet again and used her strength to roll on top of Paul and start her sexual torture all over again.

Paul pushed her off of him and said, "No!".

Bret's eyes widened as Paul got off the bed and pulled his pants on and turned to her.

"What's wrong with you?" Bret asked, crawling over to him and slipping off his bed.

She pressed her body to his, slipping her hands over his well-muscled backside, smiling coyly at him.

"Can you honestly tell me that you don't want me?" she asked, kissing his neck and chest.

Paul suppressed a moan as she started to excite him again.

This is not Bret! Paul told himself firmly over and over again. His eyes turned cold as he detached himself from her roaming hands and lips.

"I don't want you," he said coldly.

He saw Bret's eyes turn from aqua colored to a cold blue-gray.

"You don't want me?" she asked in disbelief. "Your body seems to want me. You're denying yourself something that could be better than your wildest dreams. You didn't seem to hesitate with Grace. Why am I so different? Is it because I'm white? You should take lessons from Harrison. He doesn't seem to have a problem having sex with women he desires. If I went into his room instead of yours and did to him what I did to you I bet he would have no problem taking me." Bret's voice was cold and sharp, but her words didn't phase him except for her reference to Grace.

How did Bret know? Paul shook himself out of his questions. That wasn't the issue right now. What was important is that he needed to snap Bret out of her dark mood. He knew she expected an answer from him, but he decided not to give her the satisfaction.

Paul turned his back to her in order to put on a shirt. He felt a sharp kick to his side. Tumbling forward, Paul braced himself against his bureau , struggling to keep from falling on the floor.

Sorry about this, Bret, Paul thought to himself as his right leg struck out behind him and made contact with Bret's stomach causing her to gasp and fall over the bed in a reverse somersault. She fell on the other side of the bed on the floor. Paul switched on a lamp and carefully walked over to where Bret was . He saw no movement, but knew better than to step over between Bret's legs. She may look unconscious, but Paul had seen this routine of hers enough to know not to fall into her trap. Many aliens have been killed when they were stupid enough to walk right where Bret could nail them with her strong legs.

Strong and shapely legs that were smooth to the touch, no doubt, Paul's sensual side told him, trying to cajole him into giving Bret another chance.

NO! Paul told himself sternly. This is not my Bret. This woman is like the dark shell of Bret and I don't want her!

That literally shut Paul's sensual side up.

Bret sensed Paul standing within a few centimeters of her grasp, but he was too smart to fall for a trick he's seen her perform many times before on aliens and humans alike. Pulling herself up to stand in front of Paul, Bret unleashed a series of punches and kicks in different combinations. Paul fended them all off and backed her into a corner.

His awesome raven eyes were cold and sad at the same time. He raised his hand to her and Bret was shocked. She never thought Paul would ever raise a hand to a woman-EVER! Then she laughed. He was bluffing. Paul Ironhorse wouldn't hit her even if his life depended on it.

"You won't hit me, soldier boy. You're too much of a gentleman to strike me. Even if I shot your sister you wouldn't hit me."

Paul groaned. Bret was right. He wouldn't strike her with his hand. Their sparring was different. That was for exercise and to learn no things from each other, but he would never ever hit her in the face, or any woman for that matter. He knew there was only one option left: the pressure points she taught him long ago.

His hands shot out and came into contact with her throat. Surprise registered on Bret's face.

She didn't expect him to use that tactic. Her hands went up in order to release the pain she was feeling. Paul grabbed her hands to prevent her from administrating the release. He lifted her onto his bed and put one of her hands above her. Whipping out two pairs of manacles, Paul swiftly handcuffed Bret's hands onto his headboard above her head.

"You can't kill me like this, soldier boy. You know that," Bret struggled to keep her voice normal despite the fact that the blood flow to her brain stopped thanks to the pressure point Paul administered on her.

Paul straddled her and released the block he had put on her. Bret coughed heartily as Paul wiped the small stream of blood coming from her nose. Bret McAdams, or rather the dark form of her, eyed Paul coldly.

"You're such a gentleman, Ironhorse. And you're a coward. How in the name of Zeus could I have ever thought I was actually in love with you? I know you won't kill me. You think that you can get your precious Bret back-the one who never took chances on love. Who would never make the first move. Who would never tell you how she feels about you because of her rotten luck with men and her fear of Wheather's minions finding out. Well, I have to tell you something, soldier boy. She's not coming back. I'm here to stay and when I get out of these handcuffs I will kill you. I hate you that much. Your life means nothing to me now. That old saying is right. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'"

Paul shook his head in despair. Then he caught Bret's laughing.

"What?" he asked, without emotion.

Bret glanced down and saw their position. Paul was astride Bret and she knew their positioning turned his body on. Her body responded to his as well.

"Maybe you just wanted to be in control of the situation to soothe your male ego so you decided bondage was a good way to do that. I can act submissive if you give me what I want and you un-cuff me when you're fulfilled so I can have my turn to dominate you. How about it, soldier boy? Wanna play?" Bret looked at him as her body moved back and forth underneath his inner thighs.

Suppressing a groan, Paul smiled at her and leaned down as his body moved off of hers. Bret's heart pumped faster at the thought of Paul satisfying her bondage fantasy.

He whispered into her right ear, "No way in hell. You're not Bret."

Bret screamed in frustration and anger at being scorned yet again. Her legs tried to kick him, but Paul moved off the bed before Bret's lower legs could come in contact with any part of Paul's body.

Paul knew better than to leave her alone in this state. Handcuffed or not, this Bret was dangerous to him and the others while she was in this state. Paul picked up his phone and dialed Harrison's cell number. It rang several times.

"Damnit, Blackwood. Pick up the phone!" Paul said, grinding his teeth in frustration.

"Hello?" a familiar voice answered.

"Harrison, its Ironhorse. Any developments?"

"Yeah, Colonel. Suzanne has found a way to combat the stuff the aliens put in Bret."

"Stuff? Is that a scientific term, Doctor?" Paul asked sarcastically as he cast a look at the sleeping form of Bret.

"Don't worry, Colonel. Suzanne said she's finished. We'll be home soon."

"Glad to hear it. Come to my room directly."

"O-kay, Colonel. Any particular reason why?"

"I'll tell you when you get here, Blackwood," Paul said gruffly then hung up.

"It's not going to work," Bret said in a sing song voice, giving him the coldest look he had ever seen her give anybody she despised- even Cash McCullough, Suzanne's ex-husband. Paul didn't comment as he paced the width of his room.

Twenty minutes later he heard Harrison rushing down the hall. He waited impatiently for Blackwood to come through his door. Paul didn't have to wait long, though it seemed like an eternity to him.

"Colonel?" Harrison called, poking his head in the door.

"Finally," Paul exclaimed. He looked passed Harrison, but didn't see Suzanne.

"Where's Suzanne?" Paul asked, worried.

"She ran down to the lab to get something from the lab. She' be right up-" Blackwood said as Paul invited him into his room. "Why are we in your bedroo-" Harrison stopped in mid-sentence when he saw what Paul was waving his hand at.

Harrison was astounded at what he saw before him. Lying on Paul's bed with each hand cuffed above her head on the headboard was Bret in a very slinky nightie. He looked over at the usually cold and uptight Lt. Colonel and raised an eyebrow, smiling devilishly.

Paul caught his look and growled defensively, "It's not what you think, Harrison."

Then what is it? Harrison asked, trying his best not to crack a smile as he eye the handcuffs. He knew Paul never used manacles to detain someone. It has always been Ironhorse's policy to shoot first and ask questions later-provided the victim was alive by the time Paul got around to interrogating him.

"One question, Paul. Where did you get the handcuffs? I've never seen you use any before?"

Harrison's face broke out into a smile. He simply couldn't help himself.

"Blackwood!" Paul threatened in a low voice.

Harrison was about to speak when they both heard, "What is going on?"

Both men turned to see Suzanne syringe in one hand and her other hand on her hip. She was looking at Bret in bondage on Paul's bed. She gave Paul a "Would you care to explain this to me?" look.

"Suzanne, Harrison, Bret came into my room and tried to kill me," Paul explained, editing out some crucial parts of the story.

"In that?" Harrison exclaimed, pointing to Bret's attire. "As I do recall Bret had her jumpsuit on. Did you help her change into something else more comfortable after we left?" Harrison asked wickedly.

"No, I did not. She did that on her own after I came back to my room to go to bed."

"But why would Bret want to kill you?" Harrison mused, rubbing his chin in thought.

Paul was not about to tell his somewhat nosy friend what Bret did to him before she decided to kill him.

"Bret's- not herself. She is showing her dark side and it's not a pretty picture. Trust me on that."

Harrison knew Paul was hiding something and it had to something to do with why Bret was dressed in a sexy nightgown that would, Harrison assumed and hoped, make a man like Paul drool in private. Instead, Paul cast a cold look in Bret's direction.

Wow! Harrison thought to himself, Bret must've really pissed Paul off enough for him to give her the cold stare of death.

"Harrison, Suzanne, get me out of these," Bret pleaded to the two new arrivals, pulling against her manacles. "Soldier boy here has lost it."

Blackwood watched his friend very closely. Bret's eyes were darker and less passionate with care than they were before this whole incident. Paul was right, she was different and not in a good way. Still, that didn't prevent Harrison from teasing the equally cold and emotionless Paul Ironhorse. He couldn't resist.

"So, Colonel," Harrison said in a low voice, "you couldn't find any velvet lined handcuffs at the place you got these? Maybe ones shaped like hearts?" Harrison was rewarded with the coldest stare Paul's ever given him.

"Knock it off, Harrison," Suzanne commented, coming to Paul's defense. "If Paul was threatened then I don't blame him for doing this. He was protecting himself and the whole team as well. Come on and help me hold Bret down while I inject this into her."

The bound woman added two more people to her "black list" as Suzanne and Harrison came toward her. They stopped when she spoke. "Blackwood, I can't believe you're siding with this-this half-breed," Bret snarled, waving her shackled hand at Paul.

The seasoned Colonel felt an icy chill run through his body. Bret, under normal circumstances, would've never called him a half-breed. Harrison and Suzanne looked at each other, then to Paul for a reaction. The Cherokees facial expression didn't change. He just looked at his friends with a look that clearly said "See what I mean?"

The astrophysicist shook his head and proceeded to walk toward Paul's bed. Suzanne followed suit, syringe ready. Grasping onto Bret's cuffed hand, Harrison struggled to keep her arm steady for Suzanne.

Dr. McCullough turned back to Paul. "You're going to have to uncuff this hand, Paul. I won't be able to get this in her with her arm positioned this way."

Paul Ironhorse groaned, but this time it was from reluctance of doing the inevitable and not from pleasure. Pulling out the key, Paul moved to the other side of the bed and leaned over to uncuff Bret's left hand, knowing doing so would make him vulnerable to any attack Bret had might have in mind in order to escape. The manacles opened up with a twist of the key and Harrison did his best to hold Bret's arm down until Paul got over to the other side and helped him hold her down. Suzanne and her syringe closed in on Bret, but before they could come in contact with her skin, Bret's foot lashed out and kicked Blackwood squarely in the stomach with her heel, knocking the wind out of him. Harrison tumbled backwards and hit the wall. Bret's foot bent and made contact with Suzanne's outer thigh, knocking her off balance and into Harrison's arms. With her hand freed, Bret reached out with the Force and took the key out of Paul's hand and brought it to her. Paul watched her, stunned at what she did. Making a step forward, Paul was knocked back several steps by a brutal invisible force brought on by a wave of Bret's hand. Fumbling with the manacle lock, Bret was finally able to free her other hand. Jumping up on the bed, Bret used the Force again in order to pick up Paul's handgun from his bedside.

"Shit!" Paul exclaimed, when his gun flew into her hand.

I should've put that gun up after I cuffed Bret, Paul berated himself.

In one smooth, but silent move, Bret jumped off the bed, the gun held steadily in her left hand, barrel pointing directly at Paul's heart. Pulling back the hammer, Bret grinned evilly at him.

"End of the road, soldier boy. Let's see if Mrs. Pennyworth can clean your bloodstains out of this carpet after dead."

Harrison, regaining his stature and control, tried to play peacemaker.

"Bret, you don't really want to do this. Shooting Paul won't solve any of your problems, whatever they may be."

"I beg to differ, Harrison. It would solve a big problem in my life. A big problem. He deserves to die for his deceit," Bret sputtered, her eyes never leaving Paul's.

"How did he deceive you, Bret?" Blackwood asked, half curious/half scared. From the look on Bret McAdams' face, she was hell bent on killing Paul for his crime against her, imagined or not.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Blackwood, but, no. It's between me and the half-breed here. As much as I would like to air his betrayal to you all, that would mean airing my loss of control of the situation as well. No, I wouldn't do that. Besides, this team only has room for one chief of security and that's me. I'm his superior so by default he has to leave one way or the other. And I choose 'Other'."

Harrison made another step toward Bret, but she stopped him with the coldest glare ever.

"Give me the gun, Bret," Blackwood tried to reason with her.

The beautiful redhead Irish woman laughed bitterly.

"And you would do what with it, Blackwood? Shoot me with it? You don't have the guts. You're a coward just like soldier boy here, but in a different way."

"How am I a coward, Bret?" Harrison asked, trying to keep her talking while Paul finds a way to keep from getting killed.

"You're a pacifist. An obnoxious, nosy, holier than though, sex driven, pacifist. One day you'll pick up a gun and kill an alien without blinking an eye. You need to wake up and wizen up, Blackwood. We're at war here. It's highly unlikely all of us will come out of this war alive and unscathed. So you need to decided if you want to live in a world alien free or end up in a coffin because your were so full of anti-gun and pacifistic bullshit to protect your family, friends, and yourself with a gun or weapon of your choice. Get off your moral high horse and live in the real world for a while to see how we live. How we live with the alien threat."

Harrison was shocked. Before this, Bret pretty much left Harrison alone about his views on guns and other weapons used to intentionally kill a person. She never preached at him about the war and he didn't preach at her about using weapons as an excuse to kill anything or anybody with a heartbeat.

Suzanne McCullough gave a questioning look at Paul that Bret didn't miss.

"Don't worry, Suzanne, I have plans for you as well. You and Debi that is. By eliminating the pain you both have suffered from for long enough. "

Suzanne did not like the look in her friend's gray colored eyes. She knew what Bret was insinuating and she did not like it one bit.

"What are you going to do for me and Debi, Bret?" Suzanne asked, hoping she was wrong.

"Do something I should've done when he and I crossed paths last time. Killing Cash would serve a lot of purposes plus it'll make me and other people happy when he's 6 ft. under. He won't be a threat to the Project."

"I don't want Cash dead, Bret," Suzanne said, her voice pitching to a new level.

"Oh sure, I get it," Bret said sarcastically, casting a cold look in her direction, but quickly turned her eyes back to Paul before he tried to pull something stupid trick.

"You're still in love with the bastard. After all his neglect. Neglecting his duties to you as a husband and to Debi as a father. After setting me up with Wheather. He almost got me killed! And if you ever got the opportunity to have him back, would you? He's an insensitive, forgetful, underhanded bastard who's not good enough for you and Debi. Hell, Harrison, Norton, and soldier boy here are more like a father to her than that one! More of a husband and a partner to you than Cash! He deserves to pay. And pay dearly he shall."

"Bret? Mom? Colonel? Harrison? What's wrong? I heard yelling," a young girl's voice came from the open doorway. Dressed in a long Minnie Mouse T-shirt type nightgown, was a sleepy eyed Debi McCullough. Harrison's body blocked the sight of Bret holding a gun aimed directly at Paul from Debi's line of sight, but Norton saw it. He had heard and seen everything before Debi showed up, but the other team members were too busy with the trigger happy Bret to see him.

"Nothing's wrong, Deb. Bret's just sleepwalking and having a bad dream that's all. Your mom knows how to help her. She asked Harrison and the Colonel to help. Come on, I'll take you back to your room," Norton said smoothly.

"But why was Bret talking about my dad?" a confused, but sleepy Debi asked.

"It's nothing to worry about Deb. Bret's just having a bad dream just like Norton said. Go with him," Paul said in a calm voice.

Nodding, Debi let the computer genius lead her out of Paul's room and back to her room after she said her goodnights to everyone.

"Good night, Poppet. Everything will be fine when you wake tomorrow," Bret said in a sweet voice.

Debi was too tired to figure out that Bret was indeed awake and not quite herself. Nodding again, Debi left.

The four members of the team could hear Debi's question to Norton, "But why was Bret in the Colonel's room?"

Bret smiled evilly at Paul as her index finger caressed the trigger. "I have to give Norton credit for coming up with such a colorful lie. I bet you were wondering the same thing when you woke up to find me- in your room."

Paul didn't know if she expected him to answer. He just hoped Bret didn't tell the others about just how she woke him up. The two partners stared each other off. Paul was wondering why Bret was taking so long to off him unless she was waiting for Norton to return or for the others to leave. Either way it didn't look good for him unless Bret could somehow be distracted long enough so he could take his gun from her.

True to form, Norton returned to Paul's room and exclaimed, "Bret, what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Bret was shocked at Norton's tone of voice that he never used with her. Turning her attention to her long time friend, her defenses automatically lowered giving Paul an opportunity to disarm her.

"Norton, I-" Bret tried to explain.

Paul took a short step back and used a crescent kick to disarm Bret. Stunned, Bret tried to retrieve the gun, but Paul managed to kick it out of her grasp. Letting out an angry shriek, Bret lunged for Paul, but he was ready. His right foot swept Bret's legs out from underneath her. Crashing down on the floor with a loud thump, Bret was quickly pinned down by both Harrison and Paul. Paul straddled his partner to keep her from moving while Harrison pulled her left arm down for Suzanne to inject the antidote into Bret. Bret tried to kick out her feet, but with no luck. Suzanne quickly, but gently pushed the needle in Bret's arm and pressed the gauge to insert the serum.

"How long do we have to wait till this serum does it's job-provided if it does work?" Paul asked as he struggled to keep Bret's right hand from coming in contact with his face.

"Your guess as good as mine, Paul," the biologist replied, shrugging her shoulders in wonderment.

Eventually, Bret's struggles became less and less as she drifted off to sleep. Paul rose up, but kept an eye on his partner just to be safe.

"Well, Colonel, what now? Going to cuff her back to your bed?" Harrison asked, not at all in a teasing voice.

"No, Harrison. Bret's going back to her room to hopefully sleep this off," Paul said quietly.

"Shall I get the handcuffs then?" Blackwood queried.

"No, Bret will be fine without them," came the Colonel's answer.

"Without them? Paul get serious. Bret almost killed you. I love her to death-as a sister, but she might thank you later for it if you handcuff her to her bedposts so she won't try to kill again," Harrison tried to reason with the somewhat shaky looking Paul Ironhorse.

All that Bret had said and done -whatever that might be, had really struck a serious nerve with Paul, Harrison thought.

The astrophysicist looked to Norton and Suzanne for support.

"Harrison, Bret will be okay without being bound to her bed," Paul said as he scooped up Bret and carried her out of his room to hers.

"You don't know that!" Harrison accused.

"True, but I'm going to watch over her all night to make sure she takes to the serum well."

Paul gently deposited Bret on her bed and covered her up. He hoped that if she woke up to be the good Bret that she would have no memory of what happened tonight. Paul turned to his 3 friends gathered around the bed.

"I'll be all right. I'll just stay here and watch her sleep. She'll be okay. I just have a feeling about it." Paul wanted his friends to go seek their own beds.

"What if she's not okay, Paul? She could wake up and kill you while you're sleeping," Harrison tried to reason with Paul again.

"No, I'm fine, Harrison. And Bret will be too. She'll return to us," Paul's voice drifted off as he sat on Bret's couch and watched her sleep peacefully.

A soft hand touched his shoulder. Looking up he was a sad smile on Suzanne's face. "The real Bret wouldn't say what she said-back there about you."

"I know, Suzanne. And I'm sure she wouldn't do your ex-husband any harm once she becomes herself again," Paul tried to comfort Suzanne.

"I know, Paul. Keep an eye on her. Call me if there's any changes."

"Right," Paul agreed and watched the other female member of the team leave. Glancing over, Paul saw Harrison hesitating.

"Harrison, I'll be fine, really. And so will she."

"Okay, Paul. I'll be across the hall if you need me."

Paul nodded and watched as Harrison reluctantly withdrew from the room and shut the door. With a loud sigh Paul stood up and went to Bret's bedside. Pushing away a few loose strands that fell on her cheek, Paul gently kissed Bret on the forehead and went back to the couch. He watched Bret toss and turn and murmur something in another language like she did just hours before. Paul prayed to the spirits to let the real Bret come back to him and his friends. The tired officer soon fell into a restless sleep on the couch. He sensed movement close to him. Opening one eye, Paul saw a woman's figure by Bret's side. Pulling out his gun, Paul aimed it at the unknown female.

"Get away from her," Paul said in a deadly tone. With a wave of the woman's hand, the lights turned on showing her features to him.

Tall, blonde, and voluptuous were the first three words Paul came up with to describe her. Perfectly permed light blond hair cascaded down the woman's back. Her attire made Paul raise an eyebrow. Dressed all in pink and in a very provocative fashion with only a sheer baby pink coat to cover her charms. She was very attractive to behold, Paul had to admit that, but blondes were never really his type in the first place. Paul Ironhorse far preferred brunettes and redheads to blondes 9 times out of ten.

The curvaceous blonde smiled at him and turned back to Bret, her hand touching Bret's perspired forehead. Instantly, Bret's tossing and turning died away and peaceful sleep took its place.

"Who are you?" Paul asked, wondering if this was some sort of trick, but by who?

Harrison? Paul thought. No, even Blackwood wouldn't pull this kind of prank on him after Bret tried to kill him. Harrison was devious, but he does have some tact and decency. Paul argued within himself.

"Call me 'A'. I'm her sister," the blonde said, hoping Paul would buy her story.

In response to her answer, Paul pulled back the hammer of the gun.

"Sorry, you're wrong. I know for a fact that both of Bret's sisters are redheads. Try again. Try the truth this time."

A sighed and made a step toward Paul to reassure him of her good intentions, but Paul stood firm, his gun toting hand steady and aimed at her heart.

"Okay, how 'bout this? I know who you are. You're Paul Ironhorse. You're in love with Breana here. You know practically all her secrets about her past. How she's immortal, a witch, and other goodies. You think she's all that. Breana thinks the same of you. The Bret that came to your room, as you well know, is not the Bret you fell in love with. Her soul is plagued by darkness. You were right in your guess that Bret needs to be kissed to free her soul. I just can't understand why you haven't done it already. You've been wanting to since you've met her and so has she."

Paul's gun lowered at A's explanation. She meant Bret no harm, he could see that. But the question remained: who was she? She looked vaguely familiar to Paul, but he was sure he had never lay eyes on her before. Must be Bret's vivid imagination and story telling that got Paul to think that this blonde beauty in front of him was someone he knew personally. Plus, how could she know what he wanted of Bret?

"Who are you really?" Paul asked again, as he put away his gun.

"I'm A- I'm very close to Reana. She's a sister to me. She's cool."

Paul raised an eyebrow when A said the word "cool". She sounded like some vacant brained piece of decorative fluff. Still there was more to this blonde beauty than met the eye. She had more depth than she cared to show and Paul could tell she showed it rarely. Obviously Bret brought out the best in her, Paul thought smiling at himself. Bret had an effect on practically everyone she became involved with, whether it be professional or personal. It was usually a positive effect and Bret was not aware of it.

Paul was living proof of that. Before he met Bret, Paul tended to be rather cold and stand offish toward the other team members, not relaying anything beyond his 1^st level of personal information. Thanks to Bret's weird combination of assertiveness and shyness, Paul learned that he could go to a different degree of personal with a person- a woman especially and count them as a friend.

"Well, what are you waiting for? A personal invite from Bret herself? If so then you have a long wait, hon.," A. said, jerking Paul out of his reverie.

"Excuse me?" Paul said, confused.

"A kiss? Bret's lips and yours coming together? And this is difficult for you to grasp why?" A. looked somewhat exasperated.

Paul looked at Bret and A. in turn. "Are you kidding? Bret's fine right now. Her body just needs time to let Suzanne's serum-or whatever the hell it is, to take effect and wash out the a-other stuff Bret was injected with," Paul explained then stopped.

He looked at A. skeptically.

"Have you been watched too many Disney movies, especially Sleeping Beauty and Snow White?"

A scoffed at Paul's remark. "No way. And don't even think of me as some old biddy, fair godmother type or whatever. As if! I do more with mortals than those four combined! They took lessons from me!"

Paul raised an eyebrow yet again at the sight of A. getting all huffy. He tried not to laugh, but a smile escaped his usually stern face. A's attitude definitely reminded him of one of Bret's friends she mentioned in the past.

Looking down at Bret, Paul wanted to kiss her more and more. A. certainly had a weird way to persuade people to do what she wanted them to.

"Do you really think this will help?" Paul asked, not certain he wanted A. to witness his kissing his partner.

A satisfied smile came across A's lips.

"Absolutely."

"How do I know you're not sent here to kill me and retrieve her for our enemies purposes?" Paul challenged her.

"Oh, come on, hon. like I would do that to Reana. She'd probably hunt me down for betraying her and killing you. Besides, I want you two kids to patch things up once she wakes up. You two make one awesome couple, which is one of the reasons I'm appealing to you personally. Reana, or Bret as you call her, might have a problem living with what she's done and said to you and your friends. I just hope you can look past what she's done and forgive her. She'll need you." A. gave him a small smile that had a touch of sadness to it.

Paul looked at both women in turn and said, "I can do that. Are you sure she will remember what the dark half of her did?"

A shrugged and said, "That's a big iffy, hon., but if she does I know that she will have a major case of the guilts to deal with."

Paul nodded. He wanted more than anything to have the real Bret McAdams back even if she was plagued by the memory of what she's done. But Paul was sure he could help her get over that stumbling block even though it might prove impossible at first. He made his way to Bret's side and sat down on the edge of her bed. He winced at the red marks on her wrists that were made by the handcuffs Paul put on her earlier. He was somewhat guilty about cuffing her to his bed, but at the time he had no choice. He just hoped Bret would understand when she woke up and was back to her old self again. Leaning down, Paul was about to capture Bret's lips with his in a brief sweet kiss when he noticed A. watching intently.

"Do you mind? I don't like to have an audience in times like these," Paul asked, trying to be polite.

A laughed softly and journeyed over to Bret's book collection, pretending to study the titles.

Paul lowered himself again and kissed Bret. She tasted so sweet, but he figured she'd taste so much sweeter if she was awake and aware of what Paul was doing.

Would she fight him or kiss him back? Paul wondered as his lips reluctantly left hers.

He would not know until Bret woke up back to her old self and Paul tried kissing her again when everything went back to normal. She stirred, but never woke from her sleep. Paul thought he heard Bret purr, but he was sure he was imagining it.

"Well, I did it. Happy?" he asked A.

She smiled, "Of course, hon. now I must go. Stay with Bret till she wakes up. Try to soothe her troubles if she remembers. We'll talk again soon."

Paul caught a moan escaping Bret's lips. Turning to her, he realized it was only a dream she was having.

"Can I tell-," Paul started, turning to A to find her gone.

"Great," he muttered. "Another Houdini."

Settling back on the couch, Paul's eyes soon grew heavy and slumber quickly over took him.

Disturbing images of her trespassing into Paul's room and seducing him the way she did haunted Bret's dreams. Bolting up right in her bed, Bret suppressed the urge to scream.

Was it a dream or was it real?

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as she took a look around her room. She found Paul sitting on her couch, head tilted back, sleeping soundly. Stretching out with the Force, Bret touched Paul's memories in order to confirm what she saw in her dream.

No! I didn't! I couldn't have- Bret thought in anguish as she viewed Paul's memories.

Tears rolled down silently down her face. Ironhorse's memories did indeed confirm what she feared the most. She, Bret McAdams, had seduced-or at least partly succeeded in seducing, Paul Ironhorse. In response, Paul spurned her and Bret went into a fury and tried to kill him. She had said some real nasty things to him and his friends.

She couldn't take it anymore. Pulling back with the Force, Bret silently got up and changed her outfit in the closet. Throwing the nightgown away with a silent apology to Mara, who had given her the piece of lingerie, Bret quickly made out apology notes to her friends. Making sure Paul was still asleep, Bret slipped out of her room and left the notes where she was sure her friends would find them. Her letter of apology to Paul was longer than the others for she had hurt him more than she could've possibly hurt anyone in her life.

Throwing her bag in the back of her SUV, Bret made her way out of the gate in haste, but was able to get past Stavrakos without arousing any suspicion that the others didn't know about her departure.

Arriving at her manor, Bret made an emergency call to Henry and told him she resigned her position as a member of the Blackwood Project effective immediately. She said that her letter to him would explain everything, within reason. She cried when she hung up the phone abruptly on Henry. Sending orders for her plane to be ready for her, Bret quickly left her manor before Paul could locate her and get revenge-if that was on his mind. Bret didn't blame him if it was. She did horrible things to him and she could never make up for that. Climbing up the stairs to her private plane, Bret put on a professional mask for her pilot as he greeted her when she entered. Settling down in a seat, Bret watched as dawn appeared through her windows. Feeling the ascent of the plane into the new morning sky. Bret closed the window shutter and whispered a soft goodbye to her friends and California.

She hoped some day they'd forgive her for what she did. Until then, Bret would have to reconcile with her self at her numerous misdeeds to those she loved no matter how long it took. Bret had a lifetime to come to terms with her sins and to make it up to Paul however she could.

Sleep quickly took her as she tried to put what she did to her friends and partner behind her until she got to her chosen destination. She slept soundly for the duration of her flight. Back in Northern California, Paul was just waking up to find Bret gone...

The End.