Birkoff slowly turned to face Walter. Oh, my God, we've wandered onto a movie set! Jesus! Talk about blowing a cover! Walter will never let me live this down. Never! If I survive the next few minutes, that is.

Walter nodded to Birkoff, a faint smile tracing his lips, as if he just ached to say, I told you so, little buddy. How many times do you need to hear that you're going to regret finding your brother before you believe it?

Before he could say a word, however, a short, heavy-set man with about ten year's growth of beard stormed over to them, confronting Birkoff. "You! What are you doing, walking into the shot? Crap, you can't even get a decent stand-in these days!"

"Didn't anybody tell you where to stand? Off-screen? Hellooo!" He knocked his fist against Birkoff's head, as if it were wood, and Birkoff winced. "Hey! I'm not a stand-in!"

"Of course you aren't, darling boy! You probably want to direct someday, right? Well, you won't live to direct if you don't get your ass back behind that line over there. Sheesh! Actors!"

He fingered Birkoff's cheek, as if he were an inanimate object, and Birkoff pulled away roughly. "Hey!"

"They did one hell of a job on your make-up, though, I'll say that. Those guys are worth every dime I'm paying them. You look just like Jason."

Birkoff's eyes grew round. "I look like him? How about, he looks like me?"

The director laughed uproariously. "Cute, cute, but don't quit your day job, okay, toots?"

"And you, Jason, I love you, baby! You're wonderful, as always. Even when you went off the script, I kept rolling, cause I know how you like to improvise…" The director kissed Birkoff's twin soundly on each cheek. "But Bubba, you lost me when the old fart came up and knocked the gun out of your hands! What's up with that?"

"Old fart?" Walter sputtered angrily. Birkoff pulled on Walter's arm, trying to remind him to stay low profile. Which was going to be a bit difficult, given that they were somehow in the middle of a movie in full production.

"I mean, honey, you're the star, you're the hero, right? We can't have some old guy come on and upstage you!"

Jason looked positively pleased with himself. If he were a cat, he'd be preening himself from here to Kingdom come. His dark eyes flickered from Walter to Birkoff and back again. He was in his element now. Amongst his people. Whoever they were.

Walter drew himself up proudly and said in tones that would have chilled a smarter man's blood, "I had no intention of upstaging anyone, I can assure you." When he quirked his eyebrow haughtily, Birkoff almost believed that Walter was who he was pretending to be. A little-known actor aspiring to be more.

Or was he merely holding himself back from cancelling all of them? Including his little buddy? Birkoff was a bit afraid of incurring Walter's wrath, ever since he held his hand and walked him through that mission. But worse than that, Walter let slip that he was responsible for the death of Willie Kane. Things were never quite the same between him and Walter after that. Birkoff began to wonder just who Walter had been twenty-something years ago. But maybe more to the point was, who Walter was now.

"I'm glad to hear it." The director leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Hey, old man, I got a part in Jason's next flick for you. You wanna work cheap? I can get you laid for free. One of the perks of the job. Not bad for a man your age, eh?"

Walter's face turned to stone, and Birkoff backed up, swallowing hard. Suddenly finding his twin brother didn't seem nearly as important as getting out of here alive and with his skin intact.

"You'd be surprised what a man…my age…could do…Sonny," Walter growled.

The director was oblivious to Walter's implied threat. Birkoff could hear the menace in Walter's voice quite clearly, but the director seemed hell-bent on digging himself an early grave. "Heyyy…if you can still perform like you were twenty, good for you."

But just as the director went to pat Walter on the back, Birkoff pulled Walter out of the line of fire. "We've gotta get out of here, Walter. But first, we'd better try to get that film and destroy it," whispered Birkoff.

"Whatever for, Seymour?" Walter drawled, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "Don't you think you're entitled to your fifteen minutes of fame?"

"Not if it's followed by fifteen minutes of torture in the White Room. Or the big sleep."

Walter chuckled, drawing Jason's attention. Jason had just about convinced himself that he didn't want to know what the two men were really up to, he was glad to have escaped with his life, and he didn't want to take any more chances today, when he let his curiosity get the better of him.

"So what are you two discussing so hot and heavy?"

Walter turned to face Jason, his eyes at once slumberous and dangerous. "The Big Sleep. You familiar with that?"

"Philip Marlowe? Oh, yeah! One of my faves!" Jason chortled happily.

Walter grinned, but for some reason, Birkoff grew even more disquieted. "Yeah, I've always been heavily into film noir myself."

Film noir. What a concept. Birkoff sighed. Sounded like something Section cornered the market on.

Birkoff all but dragged Walter away from the lights, cameras, and action. "You knew, didn't you? You knew all along?"

"What?" From the look on his face, it was difficult to tell if Walter were playing dumb or not.

Birkoff cast a sidelong glance at his double, still gesticulating wildly at the director several feet away. "That my longlost brother is a…a…" Birkoff grunted, as if coming up with the appropriate word was a physical challenge, and one almost beyond him at that.

Walter smiled peacefully, looking for all the world like a hippie dusted on loco weed or some such. "More of a geek than you are?"

Birkoff huffed angrily at Walter. "Could we not resort to namecalling, please?"

"I wasn't the one trying to come up with a suitable epithet to describe your twin," Walter reminded Birkoff.

"He's a…a…a…"

Walter nodded. "Yeah, he is, isn't he?" he drawled, running a hand over his chin.

"A jerk! He's a jerk! Why didn't you tell me he was a freaking jerk?"

"Like you would have listened to the old man? Get real, Seymour. You were positively twitching to see your brother, and there was no way in Hell I was gonna be able to stop you." He sighed heavily. "That's why I followed you."

"So you could be here to rub it in and say 'I told you so'?" Birkoff's eyes filled up with reluctant tears.

"Hey! Would I do that to you?"

"How the Hell do I know what you'd do? I'm not even sure who you are anymore," Birkoff bit off, realizing that for the first time since he could remember, he was actually afraid of Walter.

Walter shook his head. "I don't have the kind of power you're laying at my doorstep, amigo. I wish I did."

"But you did once, didn't you? You were in Michael's position, weren't you?"

"Oh, Christ, Sey—sorry, Birkoff. You're dredging up ancient history. What I was has nothing to do with what I am now. I'm just a tired old man, believe me."

Birkoff's eyes gleamed, his gaze growing sharper and more focused as he thought out loud. "You were involved with my mother. You said so. It was like…like…Michael and Nikita!" he exclaimed, certain he was on the right track.

There was an element of truth there, but Walter wasn't about to admit that to the young man he considered his son in every way but one.

"You were lovers. Operations thought that Jason and I were your children. It protected us, but it didn't protect the two of you. I'm right, aren't I?" Birkoff suddenly gulped and sobered. If he was right, it wasn't a very pretty picture. Operations hadn't changed all that much over the years. If he was so vehemently opposed to Michael and Nikita's affair now, he must have been incensed to discover Walter and Lisa twentysomething years ago.

"He made you choose because he wanted to hurt you. He wanted to show you who was in control."

To Birkoff's surprise, Walter nodded. "It was a power play, pure and simple."

Slowly an errant tear worked its way down Walter's cheek as he declared huskily, "Your mother never got over it. Losing one of her children like that. I tried to help her through it, but hey…all I could do was watch her…disintegrate before my eyes. She didn't care what happened to her anymore."

"She let herself be killed during that mission, didn't she?"

Walter let out a choked sob before burying his face in his hands. "She died in my arms. Oh, shit…I told myself I would never think about it again." Like I don't still have nightmares.

"Walter…" Birkoff drew the munitions op into a fierce hug, for once, trying to give back some of what Walter had given him over the years. Compassion. Friendship. Support. Strength of purpose.

"I'm glad you loved my mother, Walter. It makes me feel…almost like your real son." Birkoff lowered his head to Walter's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"If it means anything at all to you, Seymour, I think I got the better deal." Walter sniffled and swiped at his tear-ravaged face with one hand.

Birkoff smiled, a bright beacon of light shining through the darkened clouds that once threatened to overtake them. "I'd rather be stuck in prison with you anyday than be free to be King of the Jerks over there."

Walter glanced over at the vociferous twin, still arguing loudly with his director. "Yeah? You'd give up all that fame and money and women?"

"In a heartbeat, Walter."

"But…maybe if you'd been the one who went free, you wouldn't have turned into…what he turned into." Walter wasn't sure if that made things better or worse.

"Anywhere I went without you wouldn't have been worth it, Walter. Out here, who would care about me?"

Walter grabbed the younger man and embraced him roughly, tearful once again. "I would, little buddy. I would."

"You would've kept an eye on me, just like you did on him?" Birkoff asked, wide-eyed.

"Not just like him. I would've found a way…not to let any of this touch you…ever again."

"Walter…" Birkoff smiled through his tears at the older man. "Let's go home."

"Don't you want to get to know your brother better?" Walter asked, amazed that Birkoff risked his life to go just this far and would go no further.

"I already know plenty." He turned to stare at his twin. He would never ever see him again. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did.

He turned back to face Walter, a trembling smile curving his mouth. "And what I want now is to go home."

"How can you call that place home?" Walter asked bitterly.

"It's where you are."

End