SBian75: Thank you so much! I'm glad you've liked my stories. This story...there's a lot more to come, so hopefully you stick around. It's going to be a whole lot of fun. :)

The small coffee shop was nearly empty. The two servers stood behind the counter, conversing animatedly with the barista. It was early in the evening, too soon for the night owls and too late for those wishing to spend time away from home before supper. The shop housed a few metal tables and chairs, the furniture littered around and surrounded by sharp lines and modern art.

Bianca sipped at her steaming mug, the smooth beverage easing the chill from the wintery weather outside. She had walked the rather short distance from the Cambias offices, but would certainly have the car take her back home. While the temperature wasn't too unbearable, it was still too cold to walk that distance, especially with nightfall approaching swiftly.

Hearing the tiny bell above the door ring, signaling a new customer, she glanced up, absently setting her drink down on its saucer. She smiled politely at Maggie who, having spotted her, was making her way over to the shiny metal table.

"Hello, Maggie."

"Hello, Bianca." Maggie returned the greeting and unwound the scarf from her neck. She gracefully slipped out of her long dark coat, revealing the dark green turtleneck she had worn to work.

"How is the hospital?"

"It's been very busy these past few weeks. A lot of people are having trouble figuring out how to use their Christmas gifts without hurting themselves." Maggie draped the coat over the back of her chair.

Bianca watched quietly as one of the servers approached the table. Maggie ordered herself a latte espresso before returning her attention to the younger woman, "How's Cambias?"

"We're busy, too. Mixing the holiday break with taking so much time off, there's a lot I need to catch up on."

"Speaking of catching up, how is Miranda?"

Bianca gave her a tight smile and took another sip of her drink. This was how it had been since they started talking again. They could be polite, but they didn't really talk about anything other than Miranda. At times, Bianca wondered what it would be like to have her friend back. To be able to talk to Maggie about anything, even just silly chit-chat to pass the time. But, it was different now. So many things had happened. Even with their polite conversations, there always seemed to be something else going on. A sort of…undercurrent. Maggie had never been really good at hiding things. She was easy to read, and could be very open and honest. To hide her feelings, she usually would have to actually hide from the person she didn't want to speak with. Because of this, Bianca knew for a fact that the doctor had things she wanted to say. She just wasn't saying them, yet.

"Miranda is great. She's doing excellent in school, as you know. She's been practicing really hard at the piano. Their next recital isn't for a few months, but she wants to be perfect at it."

"I'm sure she'll be wonderful." Maggie cut in, smiling at the server as he delivered her order.

"We keep trying to tell her that, but she won't listen. She's getting more and more stubborn everyday. I think it's the Kane in her."

"You Kane women do have a stubborn streak." Maggie agreed.

Bianca grinned, the memory coming back to her, "Once she was really angry about something. She wasn't listening to me, and Frankie tried to talk to her. She put her hands on her hips, flipped her hair, and stormed out of the room in pure diva fashion. You should have seen Frankie's face."

Maggie worked to hide her frown, bringing the cup up to cover her mouth, "How are her sessions going?"

"They're going really well. She's been starting to really open up to Dr. Lundrum. She's been able to talk about everything that happened with her."

"That's good. Dr. Lundrum is one of the best child psychologists in the city."

"It's really good. We were worried at the beginning, but she's been so brave. I'm so proud of her." Bianca felt the sense of relief she always did when thinking about how her daughter had been handling the situation. She had been so scared that her little girl would be traumatized by everything that had happened with Reese and the shooting, but Miranda was such a strong child. It wouldn't be easy, and it would take some time, but the mother knew deep down that her baby was going to be okay.

"I'm so happy to hear that. You have no idea."

There was silence for a few moments after that, both women finishing their drinks. Finally, Maggie spoke, "I have tomorrow off. I'd like to spend the day with Miranda."

Bianca furrowed her brows in thought, "She doesn't have school, and I don't think she has any appointments."

"Good. So, I can pick her up tomorrow morning. It's been a while since we've spent time together." There was that undercurrent again.

"We were all busy with the holidays and Frankie leaving."

"Of course. Not everyday that my sister leaves."

Bianca narrowed her eyes, "No, it's not, actually. It hit Miranda really hard watching another person walk away from her. It took a lot of time for Frankie to make her believe that she wasn't leaving her, and they would see each other again."

Maggie tilted her head, hearing the comeback for what it was. "We'll have to see how that turns out."

Bianca pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and rubbed at her forehead, "Please, Maggie. No one wants to fight with anyone."

"Ok, you're right. I don't want to fight with you." Maggie pursed her lips and nodded her head. "So, I'll pick up Miranda at nine?"

"Do you have any plans?"

"A few. I think she'll have fun." Maggie crossed her arms.

Frankie pulled at the too large gray t-shirt with FBI emblazoned on the front. The baggy dark blue sweat pants were sans pockets, so she was forced to stand there with crossed arms as she waited for the trainer.

Her head was bowed, and she rocked back and forth from heel to toe, impatience clearly defined on her face. She did not want to be there, and she sure as hell did not want to have to go through these stupid tests. She hadn't been forced to go through these since she had been a new recruit. It was a waste of time. All it did was keep her from getting back to work and catching the Goldstein brothers.

Exhaling, she lifted her head and took in the area. She was in the FBI training facility or, as most people called it, the gym. It was a spacious place, filled with cardio machines, free weights, a running track, and a boxing ring. There were a few agents huddled around the ring, badgering each other into matches. One or two agents were jogging on treadmills, checking their pulses every so often.

"Good job, Townson. This was a really good effort."

Two men walked towards her. One was rather large, his rubbery frame bouncing with each step. Next to him was the man who had spoken. He was a skinny fellow, dressed in the same apparel as Frankie. He patted Townson on the back and gave him an encouraging smile. The other man grumbled, his bushy gray eyebrows drooping as he frowned. He stomped passed Frankie, barely acknowledging her before he disappeared into the locker room.

"My, my, is that little Frankie Stone I see?" playfully asked the skinny man as he placed his hands on his hips.

Frankie rolled her eyes, "Terry, it's good to see you again."

"Good to see me again? That's all I get? Where have you been hiding? I haven't seen you since you were a little pup still wet behind the ears." He shook his finger teasingly as he stepped up to her.

"Knock it off. I was never a pup or wet behind the ears."

"Still being a big tough agent, huh?"

"Yeah, I am. How about you tell the higher ups that so I can get back to work."

"And pass up the chance to hang with the only recruit who was more sarcastic than Luke Michaels?"

"He's a hardass. He's not sarcastic, and neither am I." The two began walking towards the mats.

"When you first stepped up I thought you were a little cutie pie all short and swaggering."

"Glad to see that's changed." They stepped onto the soft surface, and Frankie sat down. "Let's just get this over with, ok."

"Alright, alright. Still not a big gossip, I see." Terry hopped over to his bag at the base of the mat and pulled out a folder. He flipped it open, "So, you suffered two gunshot wounds while on active duty. We need to see if you're physically capable of being an agent after sustaining these injuries."

"Bunch of bull. Ain't like it hasn't happened before." Though, she hadn't exactly been an agent the last time she was shot.

"Cheer up. Everyone has to go through this. Earlier I had to make an agent go through this. He was a computer specialist that had broken a finger while fixing his filing cabinet. He never had set foot outside of his little cubicle."

"Whatever, let's just get this over with. I have things to do."

"Like what? Frankie Stone has a personal life?" Terry mock gasped.

Frankie glared at him.

"Ok, ok. Are you still smoking?"

"Why don't you read that file you're holding and tell me the first test? I didn't know I had to go on a talk show to pass my physical."

"Fine, we'll do this your way. First up is the sit-up. You have one minute. Give me what you've got." Terry moved to stand on her toes while she laid back, her legs bent and feet firmly planted on the ground.

Taking a deep breath, Frankie touched her fingertips to the back of her head and sat up. Terry began counting aloud as she went back down and moved up again. Clearing her mind, she focused on executing the motion as fast as possible. She ignored the slow burning sensation right beneath her sternum, pushing herself harder as the burn intensified and moved towards her chest.

"Time! Good job, Stone." Terry produced a pencil and made a mark in the folder. "Push-ups are next."

Frankie flipped over onto her belly and positioned her hands. At Terry's nod, she pushed up. Once again, the man counted aloud as she moved up and down. A fine sheen of sweat broke out across her face, and she grit her teeth as the number of push-ups went higher and higher. Her shoulder began to ache, but just like with the stomach, she ignored it. Reaching the required number of push-ups, Terry stopped her and she gently fell onto the mat, breathing deeply to calm her body.

"How are you feeling? Any aches or pains?"

"No, I'm fine." Frankie climbed to her feet.

"Great. All you have left is the one and a half mile run."

"Fabulous." Frankie planted a cheesy grin on her face and followed him to the track.

Terry kept his eye on the clock as the agent settled into the lane, preparing for the long run. Frankie rotated her shoulder, working the ache out as she waited for the go ahead. As the hand swept over the hour mark, Terry gave a shout and she was off. She ran down the lane, working into a good pace for the duration of the test. While she wasn't a normal jogger, running this distance shouldn't have been too difficult. She had chased after criminals, hunted down armed suspects, and played tag with a six year old. She could definitely do this.

Except for that beating in her chest.

It began as she rounded a corner. She was doing well, the pace was perfect and her legs felt fine. But then, she felt her heart beating. It should have been a good thing, but the farther she ran, the more the beating turned into a pounding. It felt like her heart wanted to tear itself out of her chest.

She wanted to ignore it. She tried. But with each rapid beat, it became harder to breathe and a fire raced across her upper chest. Soon, all she could think about was the burning pain and the crash of her heart. Her breath became shallow pants. Her body wanted to collapse, to fall into a heap on the unforgiving floor. Her head began to spin, forcing her eyes to clamp shut.

Stumbling across the finish line, Frankie bent over, holding a hand to her heart. Terry rushed to her side, placing a calming hand on her back, "Are you ok?"

"Fuck." Stone mouthed as she grasped at her shirt. It felt like someone had reached in and was squeezing the middle of her chest. With each gasp of air, it felt like a thousand bricks were stacked above her heart and lungs.

"Talk to me. Are you ok? Do you need help?" Terry leaned down to look at her face.

"I'm…I'm fine." Frankie fought to calm her breathing. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she bit the inside of her cheek, hard.

"Stone…"

"It's fine, Terry. I…just haven't run in awhile." She lifted her head, schooling her features as she slowly straightened up.

"Are you sure? How do you feel?"

"Good, great. Just…jetlag and everything. I'm still recovering from the time zone change and lack of sleep."

"Jetlag can be difficult."

"Did I pass?" Frankie demanded, wiping at her face.

Terry glanced down at his notes. She had barely made it in time. That was cause for concern, but the way she had looked crossing the line…

"Can I go back to work or not?"

"Stone, if you're feeling unwell right now, we can wait a little bit and try again."

"I feel fine. I'm just tired from the time change. If it makes you feel better, I'm not going to be running in any marathons in the next few weeks."

"Stone…"

"Jesus Christ, Terry. Did I pass or not? This isn't a short answer exam. You know me."

Terry looked down at his folder. Stone was a good agent. She had been able to handle herself in difficult situations. She had finished the tests successfully according to the guidelines.

"Yes, you passed."

Frankie shook the snow off her coat, the door closing soundly behind her. She lifted her hands to cup her mouth and blew warm air across the chilled flesh. With a nod to the woman behind the counter, she meandered through the various tables and chairs. Reaching the back of the room, she threw herself into the corner booth, making sure her back was to the wall.

Joe's Diner was like any other normal mom and pop restaurant. From her vantage point, the agent could see everything. The main area was filled with the tables, only a few occupied. That wasn't too bad considering the time and weather. The counter was on her right hand side, the well worn swivel stools empty. One of the waitresses stood behind it, bundling silverware and napkins while listening to the line cooks converse through the opening to the kitchen. The décor was old and fading. The carpet needed to be replaced and the low hanging lamps above the booths had seen better days.

Shrugging off her coat, Frankie watched as one of the waitresses approached her table. She was an older woman, maybe early fifties, probably had worked there since she was a teenager. She pulled an order pad and pencil out of her apron and stopped beside the booth.

"Coffee." Frankie told her, shoving her coat to the end of the bench seat against the wall.

The waitresses nodded and scribbled the order down before walking over to the small beverage station. She grabbed the pot of regular and brought it over to the booth, pouring the black liquid into the cup already on the table.

"I'll take a club sandwich. Make sure the chips are fresh, alright?" Frankie immediately grasped the cup and brought it to her lips, the mixture of warmth and caffeine doing wonders.

"Sure thing, sugar." The waitress wrote down the order and walked away.

Frankie gulped down more of the coffee, draining the cup. She set it back down on the chipped saucer, noticing the tiny hairline fracture on the cup's white surface. She traced the almost invisible line with the tip of her finger. Her mind was working overtime, going over anything and everything. One moment it would be analyzing facts from her last case, the next it would be reminding her of the dull ache the burning and squeezing in her chest had dissipated to. Unconsciously she rubbed at the aching spot, her gray sweatshirt crinkling at the movement. Her finger dropped from the cup and began to tap against the tabletop, the rest of her digits soon joining in.

Realizing what she was doing, Frankie glanced down at the hand on her upper chest. With a sigh, she raised it up, rubbing at her eyes and scratching her scalp. She didn't need to think about that. The physical was over, and she had passed. She would meet with Luke tomorrow and get her new assignment. She would be back at work.

She forced her mind back to the case, remembering what she had learned about Carrington, the Goldstein brothers' right hand man. He could be their ticket in, if they could only capture and hold him. As she thought about this, her shoulder tensed up, and she grimaced at the shot of pain. She pressed a hand against the joint, rolling it in a circle until the pain subsided.

Without thinking, she jammed her hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone. Flipping it open, she dialed and held it up to her ear. Her eyes roamed the restaurant as she listened to the ringing, waiting for the one thing that could make it all better.

"Hi, beautiful." Bianca's chipper voice answered.

"Hi."

"How are you? How was your test? You had that today, didn't you?"

"Yeah, yeah I did." Frankie's free hand found a stray sugar packet and fiddled with it.

"Did it go ok?"

Frankie dropped the pink packet and brought her hand to her face, "Yeah, it was good. They passed me, so I'll be starting soon."

"No problems at all? Your shoulder?" Bianca bit her lip. Anytime she thought about Frankie, especially Frankie working, worry would fill her.

"No, no problems at all. They said I passed with flying colors, whatever that means." She closed her eyes, pushing down the tinge of guilt at the blatant lie. But, Bianca worried. She didn't want her freaking out about something small.

"That's great. I'm so happy to hear that, honey."

"Yeah, it's quite a feat. I've proven I could pass high school gym class." Frankie leaned back as her plate of food was placed in front of her.

"Are you busy right now? What are you doing?"

"Me busy? Oh, I should probably tell ya I won't be available for a few days. I have to pull off this con up north. Shouldn't take too long with my irresistible wit and charm." Frankie smirked as she watched the waitress refill her coffee.

"Really? You think someone could fall for your act?" Bianca smiled.

"I've been told it works now and then. The key is picking out the mark."

"Hmmm, and what does this mark need to be like."

Frankie pulled the toothpicks out of the sandwich, discarding them on the side of the plate, "Well, you want someone rich, first off. No use going after someone poor."

"Of course."

"You gotta make sure there's a way in. For example, you can't go after a loner who never leaves the house or talks to anyone."

"Makes sense. What would you say is the best way to work your way in?"

"The best luck I ever had was getting hit by a car driven by the mark's family."

"That sounds like a very good way. This sounds really easy. It must not be too difficult pulling off cons."

"Nah, there's a really big challenge, actually. Safe to say I failed at it once."

"What's the challenge?" Bianca asked curiously.

"Not falling in love. I did really good on my last con until that part."

"Falling in love with your mark, must be tough." Bianca spoke softly.

"What's tough is being away from you." Frankie popped a chip into her mouth, "And dealing with your mother."

"Frankie." Bianca rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright. I've had it good. I haven't had to see her, yet." She ate another chip, "How are the kids? Acting like they're in a little rascals' episode?"

"No, thank goodness. Miranda will want to call you later to tell you all about her day." Since the agent had left, the little girl had insisted on talking to her every night before going to bed. "She'll be spending the day with Maggie, tomorrow. She's taking her to the Louvre."

Frankie paused mid chew, swallowing roughly before taking a sip of her coffee, "Oh."

"She wanted to spend time with Miranda and thought she'd like the museum."

"I bet it's every six year old's dream to spend hours looking at paintings."

"Frankie…"

"Right, whatever. Sorry. It's cool, Bianca."

Bianca exhaled slowly, "Why don't you call her? You two didn't talk a lot while you were here."

"There was a reason for that. It's not like the phone doesn't work both ways." Frankie mumbled under her breath. She then spoke up, "That's because we have nothing to talk about."

"Frankie she's your sister. Your family."

Frankie's tone was cold, "We haven't been a family for a long time. If she wants to see Miranda, that's fine. I support that. But, we haven't been in each other's lives since before I met you, and there's no reason to start now."

"Ok, Frankie. I'm sorry I brought it up." Why did she keep trying?

Hearing the spark of sadness and defeat in the tone, Frankie shook her head, "No, Bianca you have nothing to be sorry for. I just…I didn't mean to sound mad or anything. I know you mean well…I…there's…I don't need all that right now."

"Ok, I understand."

Frankie rapped her knuckled against the table, "Are you mad?"

"No sweetie, I'm not mad. I promise."

Frankie nodded and pushed her chips around the plate, "How is Miranda doing with the doc?"

"Really great. You'd be so proud of her. She's been so brave."

"I bet she has. She takes after you."

"Smooth."

"I try." Frankie shrugged and sipped at her drink. She gathered her thoughts, "Have you thought more about…seeing someone?"

Bianca chewed on her lip, "I have. I had an informal meeting with someone down the hall from Dr. Lundrum during one of Miranda's sessions."

Frankie hunched over the table, "You know, whatever you want to do, I'm cool with. I mean, with Reese and everything, that's a lot. If it helps talking to one of those doctors, I'm all for it."

"I know you're behind me no matter what I choose. I need to find someone I'm comfortable with and can fit into my schedule." She paused, "What about you?"

Frankie twirled a chip, "What about me?"

"Are you thinking of seeing someone?"

Frankie's eyes widened, "What? No. There's nothing I need help working through." She then lightened her tone, "Except maybe how crazy you make me. But I hear there's no cure for that."