Author note: New story, just laying some groundwork, please bear with me. If you don't like it, I'll kill it here; if you do like it, let me know so I can keep at it.

Disclaimer: an evil cat with a short temper and sharp claws protects anything not protected by the lawyers at Fox. Play nice, kittens.

5:57am EST

To say Elizabeth Genova was pissed off was something of an understatement after the week she had had. The weapons purchase had gone according to plan; all the money was transferred and tagged so Langley and Moscow could trace it. But as it turned out, Liz's primary asset had been exposed, and so the separatists had decided not to let anyone walk away from the meeting. Moscow had suspected something of the sort, but had kept their mouths shut, desperation to cut off supply of weapons to radicals in former satellite states overriding common sense in Liz' opinion. Four agents ended up dead, one of them a local Russian operative, and a three-month undercover operation had been ruined in a hail of gunfire because the Russians tried to hedge their bets.

And yet they had been more than happy to blame it all on the CIA bitch who had just barely escaped with three more of their agents and two of her own besides. According to her handler, it had taken several hours to convince the local authorities not to purse the fleeing agents. And it took a few more for her handler to convince Liz and her surviving teammates not to go after the separatists themselves. Langley said let it go, so the team hit the road.

It had taken her people a day and a half just to make it to the frozen safe house, and another two for Langley to arrange their extraction. After what had happened, the suits in charge thought a slow, subtle disappearing act was preferable to just hopping a train to Moscow and a plane home from there. So Liz had left last, and that had meant another two-day wait while what was left of her team trickled out of the country.

After two and a half more days of busses, trains and some pretty dodgy flights, she finally made the last connecting flight out of London back to Washington, D.C. and was almost home free. She'd only had time to briefly wash up and change her clothes in the airport restroom in London, and she could almost smell her shampoo from the terminal as she exited.

She absently pulled out her phone to check her messages as she scanned the pick-up lane for an empty cab. The first was Tyler Carter, her boyfriend, reminding her to call before she just came barging into the house at some ungodly hour. The second was Tyler again, just calling, "To say I love you, in case you forgot." Smiling, she found a cab, began the third message, and realized that at some point while she was in the air over the ocean, hell must have frozen over.

"There are reservations on the next flight to Los Angeles after you land, flight 2136. Be on it. I'll have an escort waiting for you at the terminal."

Son of a bitch. One voice mail, three sentences, and Ryan Chapelle officially became her least favorite person on the face of the earth.

Looking at her cell phone in disgust, she sank into the seat of her cab and considered just continuing on to her home in D.C. But while pulling the covers over her head, curling up next to her man, and sleeping until next week had its appeal, she had to admit; she was curious as to what had Ryan Chapelle calling her. After all, he had spent months trying to force her out of CTU last year, why would want her back? And what was the rush? She still hadn't completed her official debrief, and she knew there had to be someone at Langley who wanted to yell at her after the Russian failure.

She asked the cabbie to hold for a moment, and called her supervisor in Langley. Saul Able was as much a workaholic as she was, and despite the early hour she knew he would still be at the office. Probably waiting for her to confirm her arrival so he could get some sleep. Able answered the phone himself and quickly confirmed that; yes, Ryan Chapelle had made a specific application for her; and yes, she was cleared to go if she so chose to; but no, he couldn't give her any details on an unsecured cell phone, she would be briefed upon arrival. No help there. Damn.

"Ma'am, ya going anywhere anytime soon?" the cabbie asked, getting impatient.

Liz rubbed her bloodshot blue eyes and sank further back in the seat, feeling the heat form the cab slowly seep into her bones, making her even more drowsy. She wanted a shower her bed and a hot meal, preferably in that order. But curiosity eventually overcame exhaustion. She exited the cab and headed back into the busy terminal, very glad that the only bag she had was the one on her shoulder and she wouldn't have to hassle with re-checking anything.

After breezing through security, Liz began fighting her way through the crowds as quickly as she could. The masses of people surprised her, as early as it was. And most of the people looked as tired as she felt. As she weaved and dodged her way back to the concourse, she pulled out her cell phone again and dialed a number from memory.

The familiar voice picked up, and Liz was disappointed that it was only a recorded one, "You've reached Jack Bauer, please leave a message."

"Jack, Liz. Listen; do you know why Chapelle's dragging me all the way across the country? I'd kinda like to know what kind of shitstorm I'm heading into. I'm about to get on a plane, so if I don't answer just leave me a message on my cell and let me know what you did this time. Thanks. Oh! And if you're home say "Hi," to Teri for me- I actually kinda miss her. See you soon."

Cursing at the crowds, Liz dialed another number. Her progress ground to a halt as a family held her up, stopped cold in the middle of the walkway, with a stroller, a couple of toddlers, and enough luggage for twice as many people. Tapping her foot and trying to find a path around the harried family, Liz listened to the phone ring on the other end. A path opened up, and the ringing stopped, "Jamey Farrell, I can't answer right now, but leave me a message."

"Hey, Jamey, it's Liz. Chapelle's ordered me to L.A. for some reason. Jack finally go 'round the bend or something? Give me a heads up if you can. Thanks."

Pausing at a departures listing for a few seconds, Liz nervously ran her fingers through her shoulder-length, brown hair, trying to pull it off her heated neck, and she checked her flight status. Luckily, it appeared to be one of the few flights running on time. Or running at all, she noted. There appeared to be a large number of cancellations and delays on the board, most going to the west coast. As she walked away she idly wondered what could have happened to foul up so many flights.

Unable to put it off any longer, Liz dialed one last number from memory as she continued walking to her gate. And she was relieved when the familiar voice answered as a recording, and not in person. Liz really didn't have the patience to deal with the woman at this time.

"Nina Meyers, please leave me a message."

"What the hell, Meyers? It's Liz Genova. I can't reach anyone right now and I'm about to get on a plane for L.A. on Ryan Chapelle's order. Could you have someone call me and let me know what's going on? Even if it's that new guy, what's-his-name, Tony? Listen, I know you'd enjoy it, but I really don't want to come all the way out there just to get the rug pulled out from under me. So call. Please."

Warning bells began to go off and for the first time since Chapelle's message, Liz allowed worry to creep into her anger and annoyance. She'd heard rumors of a big purge at CTU recently, and she didn't really know who was there anymore she could talk to. She considered just dialing the main switchboard, but she didn't have the patience to deal with being put on hold and transferred around until someone checked her clearances, or someone who knew her took the call.

She also didn't feel comfortable calling Tony Almeida directly, Jack didn't seem to like him very much, and she could only imagine what Nina might have told him about her. She didn't want to end up verbally sparring with someone she had never met. So she opted to wait, and hope someone she knew reached her. Damn if I'll call Chapelle, she thought, I'm too tired, I'm too hungry, and I'm too annoyed. Last thing I need right now is his attitude.

Still, I wonder…

Her heart rate quickened as she upped her walking pace. The crush of the meandering and seemingly lost passengers was slowing her down, and only adding to her aggravation. Her mind spun, imagining scenarios that could have everyone tied down and unavailable. She imagined worse ones that could cause Chapelle to reach out to her. She tripped over someone's bag, and wondered if something had actually happened to one of her friends.

It was around 2am in L.A. so Jack and Jamey not answering wasn't all that surprising as they both had families. She knew that Jack was trying desperately to rebuild his marriage, trying not to work nights or weekends, and she also knew that if Jamey wasn't at home she would probably be out at a party or a club somewhere. But not Nina, and that worried her. Nina was a workaholic, a perfectionist, and besides, unless protocol had changed radically since Liz's departure, if Jack was off-call, Nina had to be on. Liz always had been.

Liz considered pausing for a moment to pick up a newspaper, see if there was anything in the news that would clue her in. The last time she was in one location long enough to catch any U.S. news was in London, but she hadn't bothered then. As Liz breezed past newsstands, she tried to catch glimpses of the headlines. Most of the photos seemed to be images of Senator David Palmer, which didn't really surprise her. The primaries were getting down to the wire and he was a charismatic and controversial candidate. But the headlines themselves were a blur. She considered just stopping for a paper, but according to the departures list, her flight should be boarding at any minute.

Liz arrived ten minutes later to find an empty gate, with only the attendants on duty and a couple of people in the seats around, likely overflow from adjoining gates, she assumed. Showing her ID to the attendant, she was surprised when the woman motioned to lanky, casually dressed, man in one of the seats. He quickly rose, pulling what appeared to be a badge from his pocket, and crossed to Liz, "Air Marshall Gabriel Watkins. You're lucky you made it, Agent Genova," the man told her, "We were holding the flight for you, but the Captain's getting antsy. Everyone else is on board."

"I could have gotten the next flight. I wouldn't have minded." Liz accessed the Marshall quickly; he was a bit taller than her, dark hair, dark eyes, but not so handsome as would make you look twice. Basically non-descript, perfect for an on-duty Air Marshall, but Liz was surprised he hadn't boarded. Just as his looks were supposed to blend in, so were his actions. He should have boarded with the rest of the passengers. And another warning bell sounded in her head.

The Marshall Watkins half-chuckled as he took her bag and led her onto the plane, "Flights to have been suspended for almost an entire day. I doubt you would have found another flight. Everything's been full up, including this flight. Someone must have pulled a few strings for you."

"Why?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Been out of the country, and then rushing from one flight to the other. Missed the five o'clock news. What happened?"

The Marshall let out a small sigh, and stopped just short of the plane's hatch, turning to face Liz. "There was a flight inbound to L.A., it exploded mid-air just after midnight, local time, yesterday. Everything's been grounded until about four, five hours ago. It's been a madhouse ever since."

A few things began to click for Liz. An explosion like that would have triggered an automatic call-in for all senior CTU agents and analysts, and if it were determined to be terrorist-related, Jack would likely have to have overseen the investigation himself. CTU had been understaffed when she was there; she couldn't imagine it had gotten much better unless someone had untied the budget's purse strings and let Jack hire some more people. It could explain why no one was answering their phones- they were too busy.

But it still felt wrong. Even if Jack or Jamey had just glanced at their cell call logs, they would have answered her even without checking the message first. Surely Chapelle had told someone she was coming out?

Marshall Watkins indicated an aisle seat, almost all the way to the back. Liz inwardly groaned; it looked like the people all around her were more or less awake, typing at laptops, chatting with their neighbors, or listening to personal radios. She desperately hoped no one wanted to chat with her. As she sat, the Marshall leaned over her to speak more privately, "Listen, I don't know what you spooks would have to do with this, but since you obviously haven't been near a T.V. or paper, I should probably tell you this, too: Senator Palmer was in L.A. and while he was there, there were two attacks on his life."

Ah, that would do it, Liz mused, CTU must be snowed under. Liz looked up gratefully at Watkins, "Thank you, that actually explains a lot for me. I was trying to reach some friends and they all seem tied up at the moment."

Marshall Watkins straightened, and pushed her overnight bag into the overhead compartment. He finished and looked down at her with a smile, and motioned to the jam-packed cabin, "Try to enjoy your flight, anyway Ms. Genova."

Liz caught the Marshall's arm as he turned to leave, "You're not on this flight?"

"Nope. You're in my seat. Like I said, someone pulled strings."

Liz's surprise registered only fleetingly before she pushed it away. Someone with enough clout bumped an Air Marshall off his flight after a possible flight-related terrorist attack, just for her. Whoever it was also must have knocked a few heads at Langley, as Liz imagined that this side trip was going to delay her Russia debrief. That took power, a lot of guts, and a burning need to see her. Definitely not Chapelle, then, Liz said to herself with a small smile. Whoever it was, he or she wanted Liz in L.A. And with that kind of power, she wasn't going to argue. Yet.

I just hope that there's a hot shower and some food at the other end of this before I have to do anything strenuous.

Liz settled into her seat, tried to tune out the people around her, and promptly began dozing off. She brushed away her earlier unease at not being able to reach any of her former friends. Between the plane and the assassinations, CTU was probably stretched very thin. Someone would leave a message, probably mid-flight while her phone was off. There would be one from Jamey or Jack on her phone when she got to L.A. She reminded herself to check first thing when she landed.

She rather doubted Nina would call. God knows they had taken pains to avoid each other as much as possible in the last few weeks before Liz had left, hopefully Nina intended to continue that as much as she could. But Liz couldn't bring herself to care; at this point all she wanted to do was sleep.

Teri must have been absolutely thrilled about having Jack called away so late, Liz mused to herself. She hoped it wasn't going to cause any problems, she was happy to see her friends finally back together.

It was her last thought as she drifted off.