Author's Note:

I needed a break from NaNo, so this was really quick and not high quality.

I'm rather proud of the fact that I managed a Helix story using someone other than Sergio - although he managed to slip in anyway, in a sense, the sneaky little prick.

I like Peter. I wanna do more with Peter. Some day.

Is it January yet?

They'd told him they were sending someone up with the CDC team – someone skilled enough to keep the cover while starting the process of cleanup. Nothing more he had to do, they said, just maintain his position on the base and he'd be extracted when the time came.

They failed to tell him who exactly was coming, but Peter felt that didn't matter all that much. Once you've met one of Ilaria's grunts, he figured, you'd pretty much met them all. He tried to ignore the small voice the pointed out that he probably qualified as one of Ilaria's grunts these days – it was different, he was doing something more than just guard work or intimidation, this stuff was important.

He did his job. He got the virus to the right people and he waited for his backup.

And then he got infected.

Though he wouldn't mention it to anyone out loud again, Peter was still pretty damn bitter about that ordeal. He'd been told backup was coming and then he'd nearly been killed by the very virus he was supposed to be delivering with no real help in sight.

It was a little iffy, remembering anything through the haze of the infection. He could remember the few times he came to with Alan around, carefully diverting the topic whenever possible. He could vaguely remember air ducts, cramped spaces, bodies pressing everywhere, the constant waiting for something…but until he woke up on a cot, apparently virus-free, there wasn't much of anything that was clear.

Peter was a little proud of himself, if he were honest, for managing to maintain his cover surrounded by people like Julia and his brother and the various 'upstanding' scientists. He heard the brief summary of Sutton's downfall and let himself be briefly impressed that the CDC group had somehow managed to reclaim the base. Whatever backup that had been coming, he figured, had probably been wiped out in that wave. It would just be a matter of keeping up the façade and getting the Scythe what he needed to get them both out in one piece.

That had worked well enough. The kid was somewhat psychotic, but he definitely knew what he was doing. Things were more complicated than expected, maybe, but Peter figured he could at least finally get off the damn base.

Things got a little more complicated when he got to the loading dock with the rest of the group.

He'd never met Balleseros before – though a very distant part of him seemed to recall seeing that face in the air ducts once – but he knew of him. The man was one of Ilaria's best, a good example to give to the rest of them, the picture of loyalty and a stubborn determination for getting jobs done well. They had, apparently, sent Peter backup.

It just didn't seem like he was actually backup anymore.

It wasn't too hard to meet with his bosses – or whatever they technically were, it was hard to put a name on it. Alan was scouting Paris, they separated a lot, and Peter had no trouble just letting himself into the office. He was sent to some man named Ramirez to give a statement on things . Not exactly an ideal way to spend an afternoon, but apparently necessary.

The recording device was whirring quietly on the table and Ramirez had a notebook and pen at the ready. He looked silently through a folder for a few minutes before turning his attention to Peter.

"Could you please state your name for the record?"

"Dr. Peter Farragut."

"And you were present for the…incidents at Arctic BioSystems this past Janurary?"

"I'd been assigned there, yes."

"How long was that assignment?"

Way too long. "About seven months."

Ramirez nodded, scribbling something down on the notebook quickly. "What was your mission?"

"There was concern Dr. Hatake's loyalty was faltering," Peter said, his eyes on the upper corner of the ceiling. The words were mechanical, well-rehearsed, and he was already eager to get out of this room. "I was to make sure the virus ended up in the control of Ilaria, regardless of his decisions."

"Which you managed."

"Yes, I got it out. Got infected with the damn thing in the process, but no one seems overly concerned about that detail so far…" That earned him a slightly warning look and Peter sighed. "You have the virus. I did my job."

"And we are grateful for that." Ramirez looked down at the file again, the start of a frown appearing between his eyebrows. "Now what about Ms. Sutton? Any details on what happened to her and her team?"

"I was unconscious the entire time she was on the base, remember?" He scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaning back in the chair wearily. "All I could gather from the others was that Hatake probably killed her himself. The rest of the team was taken out afterwards."

Ramirez seemed to consider that a moment before nodding. "A great loss. Hatake will answer for that." He flipped a page, peered at it, and then looked back up at Peter. "What about Balleseros? How was he killed?"

Peter blinked twice, frowning, before he heard himself suddenly laugh. "Oh hell, you people don't know?"

"Know what, Dr. Farragut?"

"Hell, I thought the Scythe would know, that's…" He shook his head, shrugging. "He's not dead."

That seemed to catch Ramirez a little off guard, and he looked back down at the file as if hoping it would clear the matter up. "Out of all the agents we sent into that base, you and the Scythe were the only ones to return."

"Yeah. I know. But he's not dead."

It was silent for a few moments. Eventually Ramirez set the folder down and leaned forward on the table. "Did he say when he'd be checking in?"

"Didn't mention explicitly, but my guess would be sometime around…never." Peter raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smirk. "No, he's completely jumped ship."

"He's defected?"

"Completely."

"Sutton didn't mention –"

"What makes you think she knew?" Peter shook his head, eyes going to the corner again. "Balleseros is done."

"You're certain?"

"Look, Ramirez, there are two things that make people turn," he said, lifting one hand to count them off. "Money and love. Money doesn't seem to be a problem around here, so judging by that and the girl he had with him, I'm guessing it's the latter."

Ramirez just looked confused at this point, glancing once back to the observation window and making Peter wonder just who was out there watching. "A girl? Who was she?"

"Hell, I have no idea. Never seen her before, but she looked native. Apparently your little brainwashing act didn't work as well as you'd hoped, huh?"

It was quiet again, this time for at least a minute. Ramirez managed to get his expression back under control and let out a slow breath, picking up the pen again and taking a few more notes.

"Is there any chance he might end up working with your brother?"

Peter held back a grimace, shrugging once instead. "They're not fond of each other. I don't know."

"Is there anything else you do know about it?"

Another shrug. "Just that he's a stubborn bastard who doesn't die when he should. I know a few people like that by now." Peter pushed himself to his feet suddenly, turning to the window and raising a questioning hand. "Can I go now? I've sort of got this cover to keep up."

He knew they'd call him back in later. They always did. For now, though, he was content to leave them to have a slight panic over the fact that one of their best agents had decided to go rogue.

He may work for Ilaria. He may find them extremely helpful more often than they screwed him over.

That didn't mean he had to like them much.