A/N: Hello again! Welcome back. Life has kept me busy but I was finally able to get this chapter up and running with the help of michaelfmx. Not much to say about this chapter except that I hope you enjoy. Please leave any thoughts in that lovely review box below!

1400 Hours, New Haven, CT, Office of Natasha Edwards: August 4th, 2030

Natasha peered at her computer screen, eyes narrowing in frustration as she scrolled through her students' latest test scores.

Bunch of lazy twats, she thought, closing her gradebook and reaching for her shoulder bag. This school is supposed to weed out the kids relying on mommy and daddy to pay their way while they spend their weekends boozing and partying.

She sighed heavily and rose from her desk chair, closing her laptop and locking her office door behind her as she left. Sometimes she felt like being one of the head professors of the Yale school of Engineering and Applied Science was almost as difficult as her former job as Deputy Director of the New Haven CSI Forensics Department. Although she'd much rather deal with cadavers than spoiled, rich students. At least the cadavers never talked back or made bullshit excuses. Natasha sighed, shaking her head to clear it. She had more important things to do than ruminate about her students. She needed to get home to her personal office. The scan she'd left running that morning after Anthony left should have been completed by now.

Natasha hurried out of the main Science building, crossing the faculty parking lot and jumping into her black Jetta. Moments later, her cellphone rang. Anthony. Nat accepted the call, her voice laced with feigned sincerity when she spoke.

"Hello?"

"Nat? Where are you?"

"Hey, honey, I'm so so sorry. I got caught up at work. Filling in all of these grades takes a ridiculous amount of time."

"That's okay. As long as you're alright. But the boys are here, all ready to head to basketball practice. I thought we agreed you'd take them today. I have that meeting with Mr. Lacey in an hour."

Natasha cursed inwardly, she'd completely forgotten about practice. "Anthony, I'm sorry, I won't make it home in time. Can you take them to practice? I know you'll be cutting it close with your client, but I promise to pick them up."

Anthony sighed over the line, but Nat could hear a smile in his voice when he responded. "Yeah, alright. You owe me one, Nat."

"I'll pay you back," she said, in a salacious tone that had Anthony chuckling. "Date night this weekend?"

"It's a deal." She waited for Anthony's 'I love you' and then ended the call, her smile fading as she revved the engine. With the boys at practice and Anthony busy with the meeting he and his client had scheduled, she had plenty of time to work on her project alone, without interruption.

New Haven, CT, Natasha Edwards' Residence, May 30th, 2019, 11 Years Ago:

"I'm afraid- that's all I can tell you, ma'am. Your brother's more covert affairs are highly classified. Considering the fact that we were unaware of your familial relation to Benjamin until only a few months ago, there isn't much we can say. I apologize Mrs. Edwards." The suited CIA officer, Ryan Bowers, bowed his head as he finished, but Nat wasn't satisfied with just his condolences, she wanted answers.

"I don't understand," she said, clasping her hands in her lap and meeting the agent's eyes from where she sat on the living room couch. It was lucky, she thought, that Anthony had taken the twins out for the day. They'd gone this long without knowing about Benjamin, and this wasn't the way she would have them find out about her brother. "My brother never told you about me?"

"No ma'am. In fact, we weren't aware of his true past. Your brother was a smart man. He joined the CIA with a fabricated background. Benjamin Pierce was his alias. Benjamin Evans never existed."

Nat frowned and looked down at her lap, her mind racing a mile a minute. Her brother had distanced himself from her when their mother died during their teenage years. It wasn't as if Nat had expected her alcoholic mother to live long enough to see her or her brother succeed, but raising Ben on her own hadn't been easy. The second he was old enough to get out on his own, he'd left and the contact she'd tried to maintain with him had been fairly one sided. She'd known he'd joined some sort of covert government agency and each time she'd spoken with him, it became more and more clear that he was a CIA agent. But it never occurred to her that he'd created an alias. Why? To protect her? What was the point of keeping her existence a secret from the agency? Rather, not her existence, but their connection. Had he planned on going rogue all along, like the CIA officer had suggested?

"Ma'am, your brother was involved in some highly illegal affairs. He went rogue when his mentor was determined MIA. There was nothing we could do to salvage his actions. His death is regrettable, but not something within our control," Bowers continued.

"So your agents didn't kill him?" Nat asked, narrowing her eyes.

"That's information I'm unable to disclose, ma'am."

"He's my brother."

"He was also a criminal."

It didn't add up to Nat. Her brother was a smart as her, he always had been, even as a child. If he'd decided to betray his entire country for a cause this officer wasn't willing to share, then Nat needed to find out why he'd died. He'd been the only family she had. After their mother died and their father left, she and Benjamin had been the only ones to carry on the Evans name. And Benjamin had even abandoned that. Maybe that was partially why he had created the alias. The name Evans certainly didn't carry favorable memories, and Nat had been quick to accept Anthony's name when they'd gotten married.

"That's it then?" Nat said, glancing at the letter next to her from the DCI that offered personal condolences for her brother's death. "My brother was killed in action after going rogue…That's all you can tell me? No how, no when, no why?" In all honesty, Nat knew it had most likely happened long ago. Her brother had a reputation for leaving years between calls. But seven years was a long time to pretend there was a call coming eventually. She'd known a long time that her brother was gone, she just didn't know why or how.

"That's all I can specify ma'am, my sincerest condolences for your loss," Bowers said.

"Why has it taken this long for me to be notified? Seven years is a long time."

Bowers hesitated and then let out a long sigh. "Ma'am, the situation with Pierce wasn't one of the CIA's proudest moments. His file and subsequent death were swept under the rug for quite some time. Some more recent…projects…have brought up his actions inside and outside of the CIA, which is when we discovered your connection to him. For a long time, we didn't believe Pierce had a family to look into. To be honest, it wasn't a top priority case, ma'am. But your brother betrayed his country. A death is a death, a loss is a loss, but Pierce wasn't exactly at the top of our list when it came to finding next of kin. I hope you can understand that."

"I do…. Thank you," Nat replied, her voice chilly. Bowers looked up, a little surprised by her tone, but he took it in stride and headed for the front door.

"There are memorial services we hold for agents lost in the field. Your brother's plaque will not be displayed considering his…. affiliation. But it may help to talk with other families who have lost children and siblings."

"I'll consider it," Nat said, standing and hurrying Bowers out the door. "I appreciate you taking the time to give me the news."

Bowers opened his mouth to reply but Nat shut the door in his face before he could. She leaned against it, pinching her nose and releasing a heavy sigh. Benjamin was dead, killed in action. But still she didn't have the answers she needed. Her brother had been a good man. A little weak, wired and wary, but smart and good-hearted. There had to be a reason he'd abandoned the CIA and there had to be a reason he'd died as a rogue agent. Natasha was going to find out no matter what it took. She still had connections within the New Haven Forensics department. And if that didn't pan out, she'd find another way. Anthony teasingly called her relentless when they attended Brown together, but he couldn't have been closer to the truth. Nat was going to find answers if it was the last thing she ever did.

1600 Hours, New Haven, CT, Natasha Edwards' Residence: August 4th, 2030: Present Day

Natasha sat in the computer lab she'd constructed in the basement of her house. She'd locked the door behind her, an unnecessary precaution considering that the house was empty, but Nat didn't want to risk anything. What she was researching was too sensitive for Anthony or the boys to discover. Almost eleven years after she'd learned of her brother's death and she was so close to getting justice for him. Patience and perseverance had gotten her this far, she wasn't planning on stopping now. The scans had been conclusive. Many of the men and women her brother used to have under his control still lived. The list of names stared back at her from her screen. They were scattered across the country, having disbanded after his death, but Nat knew she could bring them together. They were mercenaries, men for hire, they'd do whatever she wanted for the right price. And if her brother was as respected by them as she suspected, then her name might sway them a little as well. A few of them had already begun gathering intelligence for her, but they were sloppy agents. Careless. They left behind a trail. She'd cut contact with them almost immediately. She needed to be more careful with which men and women she chose for her personal militia.

Another document sat on her secondary screen, describing the details of the Intersect Project that began with an Agent named Bryce Larkin, now deceased. The technology was what her brother had been after. For what reason, Nat couldn't be sure. But she could guess. It was a powerful piece of experimental technology. Capable of creating an unstoppable force of nature through nothing more than encoded images. If she was going to find retribution for her brother's death, it meant finding whatever version of the Intersect the CIA had now and making it hers.

Natasha Pierce. The alias had a nice ring to it, she had to admit. Closing the screen with the list of men and women she would need to contact, as well as the Intersect records, Natasha brought up the file she'd stared at day after day for what seemed like decades, although she'd only officially discovered who these people were a little over a year ago. The smiling, goofy face that she hated with every fiber of her soul stared back at her.

Charles Irving Bartowski.

Bartowski was the reason her brother was dead, or more specifically his wife, the former CIA Agent Sarah Walker. She'd been the one to deliver the final blow that killed her brother. Leaving his body in a CIA facility that detonated only moments after she'd ended his life. Ryan Bowers hadn't been truthful with her when they'd spoken all those years ago. The CIA had been the reason for her brother's death. The twisted Agency that stood for good, but turned its back on its members and conducted covert projects that Nat found morally corrupt. It had killed her brother; it's agents had killed her brother. And getting revenge on them was step one in destroying the Agency that had taken away the last of her family. Nat's phone rang suddenly, startling her out of her musings. She glanced at the screen before she answered. It was an unidentified number, but Nat already knew who it would be.

"What is it?" she asked the second the call connected. She wasn't in the mood for pleasantries at the moment, she'd been expecting this call days ago.

"They're here. They arrived this morning."

"You took your sweet time informing me," Nat hissed, realizing too late she needed to be careful. Her informant had a tendency to become emotional.

"I couldn't call you right away without seeming suspicious."

"I know," Nat bit back her irritation, taking a deep breath. "You're doing well. Remember the plan from here. Now that they've arrived—"

"I remember."

"Good. Then don't contact me again until you have something to report," Nat ordered. "I want Bartowski's children under constant surveillance, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Then get it done." Nat hung up the phone, her jaw clicking as she stared at the screen displaying the faces and personal files of Walker and Bartowski. Now that the children were secured at Langley, it was time for the next step of her plan. Pulling up the list of mercs and rogue agents she would need for the next phase, Nat opened her phone and punched in the first number, a merciless smile lighting up her face.

You're next, Walker.

1700 Hours, Langley, CIA HQ: August 4th, 2030

After the brief meeting with Director Brennan, Rachel led the group back through headquarters to the entrance where another car was waiting for them outside. After a brief conversation, the group decided to split for the day. Carina would take the kids to unpack their things at the safe house, while Cole and Casey stayed at Langley to look into any possible leads on who was tracking Chuck and Sarah.

"I'll meet up with the two of you in a few days," Rachel explained when Sam asked what she would be doing in the meantime. "I'm helping oversee your training, which means I'll have to set up one of the gyms around here just for you. I'm looking forward to see what the Bartowski kids are capable of." She smiled brightly and nodded cordially to both of them and strode back into headquarters, her high heels clicking on the concrete as she went.

Sam watched her go. Rachel seemed nice enough, but Sam hadn't been able to get a good read on the young agent. She supposed she'd have to wait until they met her again during training. Carina huffed, drawing their attention, and jerked her thumb towards the car.

"Come on, we might as well head to the safe house now."

"Are we going into a bunker?" Landon asked nervously. Sam knew that they weren't about to be thrown into some deep, dark pit-like prison but Landon's expression made it clear he wasn't so sure.

"No way, are you kidding?" Carina scoffed. "The place they set up for you is one of Brennan's personal safe houses. Top notch security and the comfiest furniture the CIA can afford. You'll love it there, trust me. It'll be just like staying in a 5-star hotel…But, you know, with surveillance cameras..."

The idea of being monitored 24/7 didn't sit well with Sam, but she knew it was a necessary precaution. The three of them piled into the car and sped away from headquarters. The drive wasn't long; it took them only a few miles outside of Langley to reach their destination. There stood one of the nicest houses Sam had ever seen. The word mansion came to mind. In fact, the building seemed a little too striking to be considered a covert safe house. But Sam wasn't about to question the CIA's tactics, especially if this really was one of the Director's. Hopping out of the car, Carina led them inside, giving them a whirlwind tour around the giant house, which had multiple bedrooms, a large living room with a wall-to-wall television, and an enormous kitchen stocked to the rafters with every food Sam could possibly imagine. The house had definitely been prepared for them, and although Sam didn't see any cameras, she imagined there were plenty of hidden bugs scattered around.

"Pick a room and unpack your stuff kiddos," Carina said, taking out her cell phone and heading for the back porch. "I'm gonna make a call."

"Hey, do you think we can call our parents?" Sam asked before Carina could leave. They'd had their cellphones confiscated by Cole before leaving the plane. He claimed a cellphone made them 'traceable'. And while they'd been reluctant to relinquish them, Sam hadn't realized until now that it left her with no way to contact her parents. Maybe that had been the point….

"Sorry," Carina said after a brief pause, her face falling. "I can't let you call them."

"What?" Landon balked. "Why not?"

"Too dangerous. The call could be traced. We don't know if your landlines back home have been bugged by whoever it is that's after your parents. If they find out you're here, then you'll be in danger again. Trust me, it'll be safer for all of you if you avoid contact until we sort this out." Carina looked genuinely apologetic, but she offered no other explanation, stepping outside and raising her cell phone to her ear.

"I can't believe this…" Landon murmured, looking down at his feet. "We can't even let them know we got here safe."

"We could always steal Carina's cell," Sam teased, nudging Landon's arm in an attempt to lift his spirits. He smiled half-heartedly.

"Yeah right. I'd like to see you try to take anything from an actual spy."

"I could try!"

Landon laughed and Sam knew she'd turned his mood around…for now. She had to stay strong for his sake, but inside she was as terrified as he was. Worry for her parents bloomed in her gut, and she was more nervous for the coming days at Langley than any evil agent who might be after them.

"Come on," she said, tugging Landon by his sweatshirt. "Let's go pick some rooms."

o-o-o-o

Sam lay on a bed in one of the many gigantic rooms in Brennan's safe house that she'd claimed as her own. She stared up at the darkened ceiling, listening to the wind whistling past the windows and rustling the leaves of the trees outside. Suddenly, a loud creak startled her out of her thoughts, and she shot up in bed, scrambling to turn on the lamp on the bedside table.

"Hey, Sam?"

"You scared the hell out of me," Sam sighed when Landon crept through the cracked door. He looked small and much younger than he really was in his oversized sleep shirt and pants. His curls were wild and unkempt and his eyes were just a little too wide. It was obvious from his appearance that he'd gotten about as much sleep as she had.

"Sorry." He stood awkwardly in the doorway, scuffling his feet and toying with the hem of his shirt.

"What is it?"

Landon hesitated, his blue eyes flickering away from Sam's and then back again. "Can I stay in here with you tonight?"

A rush of fondness for her brother flooded Sam's chest. She knew he was scared, and he had been since they left Burbank, but it had been many years since he'd allowed himself to be vulnerable around her. Entering his teenage years had turned him quiet and a little bit sullen. They argued more often than they got along, which hadn't been the case when they were younger.

"Yeah, sure." Sam scooted across the bed, gesturing for him to take the other side. Landon hurried across the room, slipping quietly into the bed and curling into the sheets, lying as far away from Sam as he could. Sam sighed again and turned off the lamp, settling against her pillow and staring up at the ceiling once more. She could hear Landon breathing quietly beside her. He kept his back to her, even when he spoke.

"Do you think Mom and Dad are gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Sam said after a moment of hesitation. The truth was, she had no idea whether or not they'd be able to handle themselves against this nameless threat. But she'd promised her father that she would be strong for Landon. She'd promised to take care of him. "They're gonna be fine. They used to be professional bad asses, remember?"

"That was a long time ago," Landon mumbled into his pillow.

Sam bit her lip, fingering the hem of the bed sheets as she tried to decide how best to comfort her brother. He was right. It had been a long time since her parents had done anything remotely 'spy-ish'. And besides that, her father had only been an analyst. She couldn't imagine that he'd be able to actually protect himself if forced to fight.

"But it's like riding a bike," she said finally. "You never forget how to kick bad guy butt."

Landon chuckled softly and curled deeper into the covers. After a few minutes of silence, Sam assumed he'd finally gone to sleep. When she heard a few snuffling snores, she realized that she'd been right. Turning onto her side, Sam hugged one of her pillows to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. If she shut them tight enough she might be able to block out the fear of the enigmatic threat that stretched over her family like a giant shadow.

0600 Hours: Safe House, Outside Langley: August 5thth, 2030

"Rise and shine, kiddos! It's time for your first day of training!"

Sam groaned and pulled the covers over her head as a harsh light filled the bedroom. Not a moment passed before the sheets were ripped away and sent fluttering to the floor. Carina stood at the end of the bed, hands on her hips, a grin on her face.

"Come on, you two should be excited! This is actual spy training you're going to experience."

"What time is it?" Sam muttered, her voice gravelly from sleep. Landon lay next to her, hiding in his pillow. Although there were several rooms in the mansion, Landon had elected to stay in Sam's room for the entire night and she didn't think that would change anytime soon.

"Time to go. Come on, seriously, up kids. I've got people lined up to work with you today. Including me. I'm people. And the others will not appreciate being kept waiting. If they get grumpy…well, that won't be good for you guys." Carina strode towards the door, leaving the sheets pooled at the end of the bed. Sam sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Don't we get breakfast?"

"We'll grab something on the way," Carina replied, one hand on the door way. "Now hurry up, we have to be at The Farm in an hour." With that, she winked and strode out the door.

Sam blinked sleepily, her brain still trying to catch up with the conversation. "The Farm? …. Are we practicing punches on pigs or something?"

"No," Landon yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Camp Peary. Established in 1942. It's a CIA training facility."

"How do you know all that?"

"Everyone knows that."

"I didn't!" Sam argued.

"That's because you got a D in American History," Landon explained, crawling out of bed and searching the drawers in their shared bureau for a set of clothes.

"Okay, how did you know that? I didn't tell anyone."

"I found your report card in the trash," he said, grabbing a fresh shirt.

Sam gaped at him. "And you didn't tell on me?"

"Why would I?" he shrugged. Sam stared at him, unaware that her brother had the capacity to sympathize with her. "Sucky grades affect you, not me."

Sam's shoulder slumped. "Gee, just when I thought you cared."

Landon cracked a lopsided grin. "Besides. I've got blackmail material now. That's priceless." He scurried out of the room laughing just as Sam launched a pillow at him.

Whatever, she thought. I'll show him. No way I'm getting a D in any spy school courses.

o-o-o-o

"Hit me."

"…. Hit you?" Just like that? Just…hit you?"

Carina jerked her chin in a small nod, a smile quirking her lips. She, Sam, Landon and Cole stood inside a well-maintained dojo at the center of The Farm facility. Sam had time to wake up during the car ride here, but she hadn't been expecting Carina's abrupt approach to training. The second they entered the dojo she'd whirled on Sam and told her to stand in the center. And then…. Hit me. Cole looked amused, standing off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. Landon stood beside him, his brows drawn low over his eyes.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, her voice rising. "Shouldn't we set up a combo or something? I don't want to hurt you." She was trying to find an excuse not to swing at the red head who stood in front of her, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned casually into one hip.

"You're assuming you're going to be able to hit her on the first go," Cole added from the sidelines. Sam shot him a sharp look.

"Come on," Carina's taunting tone drew her attention again. "Hit me."

Sam's jaw clenched and she balled her fists. Irritation gave her the push she needed and, without warning, she swung her right fist at Carina's head. Carina's response was lightning fast. Immediately she ducked low, leaning out of the way of Sam's swing. She caught the second attempt so easily that Sam didn't even see her move. And then there was a pressure behind her right knee and she was falling. Sam hit the mat hard, the breath leaving her lungs in a harsh gasp. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, her arms spread out beside her as she tried to figure out what had just happened.

"Nice try. Your form is pretty sloppy though. Try that with someone that isn't afraid to kill you and they'll succeed," Carina said, towering over Sam.

"Oh my god… "she groaned, her back aching fiercely when she pushed herself upward. "How…?"

"Years of practice. Come on, on your feet. Let's try this again. And this time," Carina reached for Sam's hand and pulled her up, "Follow my lead."

o-o-o-o

Landon shifted nervously from foot to foot while Cole loaded bullets into the magazine of his pistol. The sun blazed high in the sky above the gun range, it's oppressive heat doing nothing to assuage the suffocating vest that Landon wore. Cole finished loading his clip and snapped it into place inside the gun, pulling the hammer back and holding it with the muzzle pointed into the air.

"Alright. Quiz time. A hand gun bullet travels at….?"

"Do we have to do this?" Landon whined, the sweat on his brow not only due to the heat of the sun, but his own anxiety.

"700 miles per hour is the correct answer. And yes. We do."

Landon tugged on the oversized hoodie he wore, feeling the vest shift underneath. "Is this going to hurt?"

"Well, it's not going to feel good," Cole said with a smirk.

"Just do it already!" Sam shouted from the side of the shooting range. She still had an ice pack pressed to her cheek from where Carina had given her a nasty bruise during their sparring match.

"Easy Sam," Cole said, lowering the pistol until it was aimed at the center of Landon's chest. "You'll get your turn soon enough."

"Hold on." Landon held his hands up and took a step back. "I don't think I want to do this."

"You won't have a choice once you're in the field."

"We're not in the field, we're in a training facility! And we're living in a safe house!" Landon argued, panic making his voice crack.

Cole lowered his gun. "Fine. Ignoring the fact that you may need to be prepared for a situation like this soon enough, I'll relent. You don't have to do this."

Landon nodded jerkily and looked over at Sam. Just as he was about to call her over for her turn, something hit him in the chest with enough raw force to knock him clean off his feet. Landon hit the dirt, the impact stealing the air from his lungs. His chest stung and ached at the same time and he was forced to tear his sweatshirt open in an attempt to breathe.

"Woooooaaah!" He heard Sam shout somewhere off to the side. "Can I try that?"

Looking down at his chest, Landon saw the bullet embedded in the fabric of his vest.

"Oh my god," he murmured, pulling it free from the vest. "That was…amazing."

Cole strode across the range and offered Landon a hand. "Isn't it? Good job. Next shot, we'll work on your fall."

"Woah, woah, again?" Landon balked, taking Cole's hand. "I have to go again?"

"You may take a break, if you wish. Your sister looks more than willing to take your place." Landon looked to see Sam attempting to strap on a heavy vest while simultaneously holding the ice pack against her face. She looked so ridiculous that Landon couldn't help but chuckle, even when his chest ached in protest.

"She can go." Cole clapped his shoulder and led him off the range.

o-o-o-o

The following day, Carina and Cole led the two kids to a small gym loaded with weights, treadmills and a small boxing ring in the far corner. Rachel stood just outside the ring, her dark blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. The smart pantsuit she'd worn the other day replaced with a tank top and spandex shorts. Sam smacked Landon's arm when she caught him staring. He flinched and then blushed a furious shade of red that went all the way to his ears.

"You feeling okay?" Sam smirked. "You're looking a little red….and are you sweating? We haven't even started yet!"

"Shutup," Landon shot back, stumbling slightly when Rachel smiled at him. Sam elbowed him again and waggled her eyebrows. She figured the red on Landon's cheeks wasn't embarrassment anymore when he sent her a pointed glare.

"Hey," Rachel said as they approached. She pointed to the bruise on Sam's face and then glanced at Carina. "That looks nasty. I thought the Director told us to be gentle with them."

Carina narrowed her eyes, giving Rachel a derisive smile. "Sam's tough. She can take it."

Rachel cocked a brow but didn't argue. "Right. Well, I'll take it from here. You two are free to go."

Cole and Carina exchanged glances, but only Carina looked truly hesitant to leave the kids in Rachel's care. There was a moment of tense silence between the two and then Carina turned on her heel and strode away.

"I'll meet you two back at the safe house tonight," she called over her shoulder, and then she was gone, leaving them alone with Rachel.

"Sorry about that," she sighed, holding up a pair of black hand wraps and gesturing for Sam to move closer. "Let me wrap your hands."

"What was all that about? Do you and Carina not get along?" Sam asked, watching with rapt attention as Rachel began wrapping the fabric around her knuckles.

"I wouldn't go that far. But Carina has a lot more experience than I do. I don't think she's very happy that Director Brennan put me on this assignment." Rachel kept her eyes on Sam's hands as she spoke. Either she was intently focused on wrapping her hands correctly, or she was avoiding Sam's gaze for some reason. "Can't say I blame her. I've only been an agent for a little over two years."

"No way, how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two."

"You're so young!"

Rachel smirked. "Normally, I'd take that as a compliment. But it makes it a little hard to get any respect around here."

"I bet." Rachel reached for Sam's other hand, having finished the first. "That's impressive though. Twenty-two and you're already an agent. That doesn't happen too often, does it?"

"No… Not many can succeed so young." Rachel paused and then looked up at Sam with a smile. "Your mother did though. She was recruited right out of high school."

"Oh." Sam knew… sort of. She knew some things. Her parents didn't like to talk about their past with the CIA, no matter how many times Sam begged for details. She could learn a lot about them here. Most of the agents she'd met so far seemed to know something about their past missions. Some even talked about them reverently.

"So," Rachel began, sensing Sam's discomfort. "Have you ever done any kickboxing before?"

"Not really. I mean I know some self-defense but…"

"That's okay. We'll start with the basics, I'm sure you'll be a natural." Rachel finished wrapping Sam's hands and pulled her towards the ring, handing her a pair of boxing gloves. She looked at Landon as they stepped past the ropes and smiled. "You'll get a turn right after I finish with Sam, okay?"

Landon's eyes bugged and he nodded rapidly, his face turning tomato red. Sam tugged on Rachel's arm, drawing her into the ring and away from Landon before whispering, "You probably shouldn't look directly at him. He might burst into flames."

Rachel's mouth formed a round 'oh' and then she grinned, shooting a subtle glance back at Landon who sat near the edge of the ring, staring at his lap. "He's a very good looking young man."

"You're going to kill him if you tell him that." Rachel chuckled and pulled on her gloves, gesturing for Sam to do the same. The two of them squared up and then Rachel lunged. For two hours she took Sam through various combos and stances until she was battered, sweaty and exhausted. And then it was Landon's turn. He kept his eyes on his shoes the entire time Rachel wrapped his hands, blushing furiously when she tugged him into the ring. Sam made sure to wolf whistle and clap when Landon stumbled over the ropes, nearly colliding with Rachel. Both she and Landon shot Sam a warning glance. Sam remained quiet for the rest of the training session, but a small smirk remained on her lips. Rachel was just a strict and firm, but Sam noticed her softening the blows she rained down on Landon. Afterwards, she helped them remove their hand wraps, congratulated their progress and led them outside the dojo to a sleek, black car.

"Come on," Rachel said, ducking into the driver's seat. "I'll take you two back to the safe house."

Landon and Sam scrambled in after her, eager to let the air conditioned car soothe their tired bodies. As Rachel drove, she turned on the radio and Sam immediately perked up at the sound of one of her favorite songs. She began humming along as they drove, loud enough for Rachel to notice, because she peered at Sam through the rearview mirror and grinned.

"Fifth Harmony fan, Sam?"

"Oh my god, yes!" she replied, nodding her head. "I love their songs!"

"Same here."

Landon looked back and forth between the two girls silently as they began to sing along with the lyrics. The car ride passed far too quickly in Sam's opinion, and she forced Rachel to park outside the safe house until the last song had finished. Rachel laughed and shut off the engine once the music faded, gesturing for the two kids to head inside.

"You two did great today. I know training can be tough, but you really are getting the hang of it quickly. Both of you." She smiled kindly at Landon and he grinned back, ducking his head and blushing when he realized that he'd made eye contact.

"Thanks," Sam said, still making no move to leave the car. "Gotta say, you're a lot more fun to train with than Carina."

"Carina can probably teach you more."

"But Carina wouldn't sing Fifth Harmony with me on the way home," Sam pointed out with a smirk.

"That hardly counts as training," Rachel scoffed.

"Just take the compliment. Please?"

Rachel relented, dipping her chin in a nod and smiling. "Thanks."

"No problem." Sam put her hand on the door handle and then paused. "Why don't you come in with us? Casey will probably be cooking dinner again pretty soon. His burgers are literally to die for."

"Oh, I don't know," Rachel hedged, her knuckles tightening on the wheel. "I should probably get back to headquarters. I've got a lot of paperwork to do."

"It's just dinner. It won't take all night. Besides, it's part of your assignment to spend time with us right?"

"Technically, the parameters only specify 'supervising' you."

"So supervise us. Landon gets really messy when he eats and he still doesn't know how to use a knife and fork correctly."

"That's true," Landon said finally, his blue eyes sparkling in amusement. He even managed to hold Rachel's gaze when she glanced at him. She hesitated again, her eyes flickering back and forth between them. Then she sighed and took her keys out of the ignition, opening the driver's side door and stepping out of the car.

"Alright."

"Yes!" Sam scrambled after her, Landon hot on her heels. "Seriously, you'll love Casey's cooking. And afterwards we can watch a few movies on that flat screen. It's incredible."

"I thought you said this wasn't going to take all night," Rachel teased as the three walked towards the door side-by-side.

"I may have sold you a little white lie to get you to agree…. Spy technique. Picked it up from Carina." Sam stuck her tongue out when Rachel looked at her, affronted.

"I'm impressed."

"Thank you."

"And if you think for a second that I'm staying any longer than dinner, you've still got a lot to learn."

"Ouch."

o-o-o-o

By the end of the week, Rachel had spent nearly every night at the safe house, sharing dinner with the Bartowskis and whoever happened to be guarding them that night. Casey and Cole seemed eager to share the load with Rachel and even Carina lightened up after a few days had gone by. However, true to her word, Rachel never stayed past dinner, insistent she return to headquarters to finish her work. Until Saturday night, when Carina, Cole and Casey were called back to headquarters to speak with Director Brennan. Rachel was forced to stay behind to supervise the kids, although Sam noticed that this time, she didn't seem too upset by the fact.

"Fifth time's a charm, Rach," she said as soon as Cole, Casey and Carina had left.

"What are you talking about?" Rachel asked, heading towards the kitchen.

"I told you you'd have to spend the night with us one of these days!" Sam said, trailing behind her. "Now you have no choice. It's time for you to experience a true Bartowski evening in."

"And what does that involve?"

"Well, it's Saturday," Landon chimed in from where he sat playing with his portable game station on the couch. "So that means breakfast for dinner."

Sam clapped her hands and ran into the kitchen, grabbing pots and pans and rifling through the fridge for ingredients. "That's right! Can't believe I almost forgot. Come on, you two are helping."

Rachel chuckled, rolling her eyes good-naturedly when Sam chucked an apron at her.

"I'm not wearing this."

"Oh come on! It's all part of the fun!" Sam said, tying on her own apron and pushing a mixing bowl towards Landon, who had set down his game and joined them in the kitchen.

"Our dad does this with us every Saturday," Landon said, grinning at Rachel. He'd become much more confident around her recently, only blushing when they made eye contact for too long. "He said it was something that he and Aunt Ellie used to do with their dad."

"Oh yeah?" Rachel said, finally relenting and tying on the apron Sam had handed her. "That's sweet."

"How about you?" Sam asked, dumping far too much flour into the mixing bowl. She coughed, wrinkled her nose and then shrugged, tossing the rest of the box into the bowl for good measure.

"What about me?"

"Did you ever do anything like this with you parents? You know, fun family stuff."

"My dad used to bake," Rachel said, cracking a single egg into the bowl and watching it drip slowly down the side. "I helped him sometimes…. He was really good. I always told him he could have been a chef."

"So why'd he stop?" Landon asked, closing one eye as he poured oil into the powdery, eggy, mess.

"Huh?"

"You said he used to bake. Why'd he quit?"

Rachel stared down at the flour mixture as Sam began to stir. The silence stretched so long that both Sam and Landon looked up from the bowl in confusion.

"Rachel? You in there?" Sam teased.

"He died." Sam's smile faded and her stirring hand froze. Landon's mouth twisted into a grimace, his blue eyes dropping to study his shoes.

"I was 13," Rachel continued, grabbing the whisk from Sam and beginning to stir slowly. "Some guy cut him off at an intersection and…" She paused and Sam saw her lips tremble. "He was going to pick my mom up from work. I don't think she ever forgave herself. Not really."

"I'm sorry," Landon murmured. "I shouldn't have said anything…"

"You didn't know." Rachel gave him a small smile that Landon couldn't bring himself to return.

"Is your mom-?" Rachel cut Sam off before she could continue.

"Diagnosed with cancer a few years ago." Sam shut her mouth, deciding it was probably best just to stop talking. "Maybe it was a good thing, you know? She always talked about my dad as if he was still with us, even after he'd been gone for years. When she was diagnosed, I think a part of her was grateful. She'd get to see him again."

Sam and Landon stared at her, speechless.

"Sorry," Rachel chuckled, when she noticed them gawking. "I didn't mean for that to sound so dark. I'm fine, really. I've been on my own for a while now. I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be," Sam said, finding her voice. Rachel cocked a brow at her. "I mean… Everyone should have a family."

Rachel shrugged. "Not everyone's that lucky."

"You could come stay with us," Landon squeaked, ducking his head when both girls turned to look at him. "I mean visit…Or something. Like, for holidays. I'm sure mom and dad would love to have you."

"Yeah!" Sam nodded eagerly. "Especially after all you've done for us here!"

"I don't know about that," Rachel said, pouring the disastrous batter into a frying pan and watching it sizzle.

"No, you'd totally be welcome. We always have the whole family over for holidays, the house gets crazy. You'd blend right in."

"Maybe." Rachel smiled quietly and handed a spatula to Landon, who lifted a single pancake and peeked suspiciously at its underside.

"Trust me," Same continued. "You'd love it. Nothing like a Bartowski holiday party."

The three continued to cook their uneven pancakes, and Rachel scrambled a few eggs. When everything was done, they gathered around the giant television with their plates.

"What do we show her?" Sam asked her brother, pointing the remote at the TV.

"Uhhh…. Something with superheroes."

"That narrows it down…"

"Oh! Suicide Squad! The first one. It's a classic," Landon said, sitting up so quickly that he almost knocked his plate off of his lap.

"Perfect!"

"Suicide Squad? Sounds like a dark movie," Rachel said, taking a bit of her undercooked pancakes.

"It's, well…Sorta. But it's so cool! The bad guys are the heroes," Sam explained, queuing up the movie and scrambling to take a seat next to Rachel on the couch. "I think you'll like Deadshot."

"Why's that?"

"Because he's a total badass with guns, like you!"

Rachel laughed, recalling the dumbfounded look Sam had given her when she'd taken the kids back to the gun range two days ago. She and Cole had given them a tutorial on gun safety and maintenance and then let them practice on the range for a few hours.

"You aren't too bad yourself," Rachel said, elbowing Sam in the ribs and laughing when she squirmed away.

"I thank you," she replied, stuffing an entire pancake into her mouth as the movie began. Rachel smiled and settled against the couch cushions. It had been a long time since she'd allowed herself to relax like this. It had been a long time since she'd had anyone that she wanted to relax with like this. A long time since she could truly call anyone her friend. But the Bartowski kids made it easy to feel comfortable. Rachel knew it wasn't wise to let an assignment get personal. And maybe….in that respect, the Bartowski kids made it hard too.

Thank you for reading!

Until next time...