Thanks to Max2013 and Jilsen for the reviews! And Happy Holidays to everyone!

A few weeks had passed, and the investigation had made only slight progress. While Kara had managed to get some leads on fake IDs, the students who had them had mainly gotten them in or near their home towns, not in Moscow. Frank had continued working on different computer-related projects for the comic books store, impressing Chuck with his skill and dedication, but hadn't gotten any closer to the locked door at the back. The logical part of his brain told him he should give up and start looking elsewhere, but a small voice at the back of his head said he should go with his gut and stick it out.

"Did you hear about the party?" Kara asked Frank at dinner on Friday night.

"Some of the guys were talking about it, but I didn't get details." He helped himself to some spaghetti and passed the bowl to Agent Vickers. "Something about basketball. They were ragging Matt about it. I didn't hear a lot about it. I was working on getting the online payment part of the website to work"

"It's tonight. Alice wants me to go with her. She says it's a school tradition. To celebrate the beginning of the hoops season. Oh, and they were after Matt because he has to be there. He's on the team." She spun some noodles on her fork. "It sounds like it's going to be a blowout, huge numbers of people, and not just from our campus. Sounds like the perfect place to do some digging." She turned to Vickers. "What do you think, sir?"

"I think it's a great idea. Drunk college kids aren't always careful about what they say. Be sure to keep your ears open." He grinned at them, then stood and pushed in his chair. "Try not to get arrested yourselves. Getting you out of the charges could prove awkward. I know I don't have to tell you to be careful, but I will. Keep your eyes and ears open." He walked to the door and shrugged into his jacket. "I have to run to the hardware store. My compliments to whichever of you cooked tonight. Don't worry about cleaning up. I'll take care of it when I get back."

They nodded at him and watched as the door shut behind him.

Kara stood, picking up her plate. "I'm going to change. Give me about fifteen minutes, then we can head out. Okay?"

Frank nodded. "Sounds good."

When Kara came out of her room, Frank's eyes widened, and he coughed.

"What?" she asked, looking down at her legs. "Are my tights ripped in places they shouldn't be?"

"No. You look… fine." Frank's words were clipped, his voice tense. "Listen, Kara, don't take this the wrong way, but you need to be careful. Don't drink anything you haven't gotten yourself. Or anything from an open container. Or..."

Kara glared at Frank, her brown eyes agates under the sparkling, purple eyeshadow on her lids. "You know, I have done this before."

Frank let out a breath. "No. You haven't."

"Been to a college party?" She snorted. His overly patient manner was getting irritating. "I went to college, Hardy." Her voice took on a hard edge. "I've been to dozens of parties."

"Not like this you haven't." With one hand he indicated the ripped sweatshirt, short skirt, and overly large leather jacket she wore. "You've been to parties as Kara Malone, a good Irish-Catholic girl who went to them to hang out with friends, unwind, and have a good time. Right?"

Kara nodded, her eyes still hard, her expression wary. "And?"

"And this time you're going as Carrie McAllister."

"Established. What's your point, Hardy?"

Frank pushed the loose hair away from his forehead. "That you need to be careful. Everyone you've met – everyone – sees Carrie as a rebel and is going to expect you to behave that way, to be a partier." His eyes held her gaze, and Kara was startled by the intensity she saw there. "It's a fine line between acting drunk and being drunk. Can you be both Carrie and Kara?"

Kara blinked, her posture loosening just a touch. "It's what I've trained for."

"I know that," Frank snapped, "but can you do it?" He took a breath. "I can't observe what's going on around me if I have to make sure you're safe."

Kara's entire body stilled, then stiffened, straightening into her federal agent stance. "You don't trust me." It wasn't a question.

"That's not it at all!" Frank closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. "I'm not doing this right," he muttered. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Look, it's just that I'm not used to working with…"

"A girl?" Kara's voice sounded as if it could cut through ice.

"No!" The word exploded from Frank's chest. "No," he said, his voice quieter. He let out a breath. "I'm not used to working with someone who isn't my brother."

Kara took a step back. "What?"

"I know how Joe moves, how he acts, how he thinks. I know his strengths and he weaknesses." He ran a hand over the back of his head. "I don't have to wonder how he's going to react to anything unexpected that's thrown at him. I can just be there when he needs me."

"Wow." Kara shook her head, her mouth open slightly. "You sound just like my sister. Does your brother know you spend as much time watching out for him as I'm guessing you do? Because I can tell you from experience, it probably annoys him. It probably makes him think you don't trust him."

Frank gaped at her. "What? No! I trust Joe with my life."

"Uh huh." Kara's expressions was skeptical. "But you still watch out for him."

"Of course I do. I'm his older brother."

"Yeah. You said your brother's at NYU, right? I picked a college away from Boston so I could see what it was like not having Lynne protecting me all the time." She looked up at him through lowered lashes. "I bet Joe appreciates not being babysat constantly. Just like I did. I got to learn how to take care of myself without Lynne doing it for me." She raised her eyes to his face. "And I imagine the experience of working with another partner is good for you, too. You need to learn to trust more people." She paused to let that sink in. "I may be relatively new to this, but I got where I am because I'm good. Got it? So, if you don't think you can trust me..."

"I didn't… I mean… I..." Frank let out a breath. "Right. Message received. You can take care of yourself."

Kara regarded him for a moment, then gave him a small smile. "That's not to say back up isn't appreciated." She spread her arms and twirled around. "So, how do I look? Good enough to pass for a teenaged girl looking for a lot of alcohol and a rollicking good time?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Your use of the word rollicking is seriously not helping with the trust issue. Ya get 'dat, right?"

Kara reached up and patted him on the cheek. "Yup. An' you're just gonna hafta live with it, big brother." She winked at him then straightened up. "Are we good?"

"Yeah," Frank said, nodding. "You've given me a lot to think about, but we're good." He tilted his head toward the door. "Let's go party."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Frank had to hand it to Kara. Once they had gotten to the farm where the party was being held, she had blended right in with the crowd, disappearing so quickly he hadn't seen her go. After an hour or so, she had wandered over to the bonfire where he stood with Matt and a few of the regular gamers from the store, her gait unsteady, but her eyes still clear under the ungodly amount of makeup she wore. To make sure she really was just playing drunk, he played up the overprotective brother act and was rewarded by a truly impressive storm of swearing and rude gestures. Some of her phrases were quite creative, and he knew he'd have to compliment her on them later. Finally he gave her the finger, then popped open a can of beer and took a swig. She stuck her tongue out at him and turned away, heading back into the crowd.

As he stood there watching her leave, Randy ambled over to them, a red plastic cup held carefully in his left hand. His eyes followed Kara's slightly swaying form as she stormed off. A slow smile formed on his face.

"Nice," he said, drawing the word out. He took a long drink from the cup. "You don't see many of those around here."

"Those?" The redness was just starting to fade from Matt's face from listening to the argument and his eyebrows went up a notch. "Those what?"

The smile on Randy's face grew predatory. He lifted a hand toward Matt's cheek and patted it in a condescending manner. "You're so innocent," he said. "It would be cute if it wasn't so sad and pathetic." He took another gulp of his drink, grimacing slightly as he swallowed, then moved his hand to clap Matt on the shoulder. "Let me educate you, my innocent friend. Girls like that," he nodded in the direction Kara had gone, "are a frat boy's wet dream."

The gamers looked at each other. One of them coughed uncomfortably and tapped the other with his elbow before walking off into the darkness. Matt was left standing there alone, Randy standing between him and Frank, his eyes widening and the pink flush spreading back across his face. He glanced sideways in Frank' s direction and cleared his throat. "Uh, Randy, I wouldn't..."

"No," Randy agreed, "you wouldn't. But I would." He clapped Matt on the shoulder again. "She's a rebel. Get a couple more drinks into her, and she'll do… Anything. You. Want."

Matt swallowed and tried again. "Randy, you really need to..."

"What I need is to get my hands on her… assets." He raised the cup to his mouth again, and took another drink. "That's what I really need."

Frank's hand shot out and grabbed Randy by the collar, jerking him off his feet and sending the cup spinning to the ground. He held the boy like that for a moment before pulling him close to ensure his words would be heard over the noise of the party. "Leave. Her. Alone." From the corner of his eye, he saw Matt move closer, his hands held out in front of him, obviously unsure if he should grab Randy or Frank.

Randy blinked a few times, trying to loosen Frank's grip on his shirt. "Hey, Zack, I didn't see you there. Is she yours?" He squirmed. "Lucky man. Maybe another time."

"Not this time. Not any time."

"What's the big deal, man? It's not like she's your sister..." Randy's voice faltered as he took in Matt's frantic nodding and the stony look on Frank's face. "That's your sister?"

Frank just stared at him, tightening his hold on Randy's shirt. He let go abruptly, pushing the younger man away. "Not that. She."

Randy pulled his shirt down, and gave Frank a tight smile. "Okay, hands off then. No problem. Sorry, man, I didn't know, so no harm, no foul, right? I'll just go find me someone else to keep me warm tonight." He turned to Matt. "You coming?" When Matt shook his head, Randy shrugged, saluted Frank with a slightly shaking hand, then turned and walked off in the opposite direction, his face pale in the flickering light of the bonfire.

Frank shook his head and put the can of beer to his lips. "Douche," he muttered, and then took a drink.

Matt looked sideways at him, then turned to watch Randy disappear into the crowd. He let out a long breath. "He's not that bad. It's mostly just talk with him."

"Really." Frank kept his voice flat. "And you know this how?"

"He's my cousin." Matt shrugged. "We grew up together."

"You have my sympathies." He took another swig of beer, his eyes scanning what he could see of the crowd behind the fire's light, trying to find Kara and settling for finding Randy talking with another girl who didn't look nearly as intoxicated as Kara had been pretending to be. "Let me guess, rough childhood, heart of gold under all the swagger?"

Matt shrugged and looked down. "Not really. He's just less of an asshole than he makes himself out to be." He kicked at the ground.

Frank turned to look at him. "Matt, why are you here?"

"What?" The boy's expression showed he didn't quite understand what Frank meant.

"I'm here because my dad's making me keep an eye on her." Frank gestured at the crowd with the can of beer. "You're not drinkin'. You're not talkin' to no one. Why the hell did you even come?"

Another shrug. "I'm on the team. I have to be here."

Frank gave him a long look, then shook his head. "Stupid reason to be somewhere you don't want to be." From the darkness on the other side of the bonfire, he heard Kara's voice ring out, telling someone there should be music so people could dance. He let out a breath. "I've had enough of this. I'm outta here." He poured the rest of the beer on the ground and crumpled the can between his hands.

"What about your sister?" There was a note of concern in his voice. "I thought you had to keep an eye on her?"

Frank shrugged. "She keeps telling me she can take care of herself," he said, "so I'm going to let her." Then he turned and walked off into the darkness.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Rather than go back to the apartment, Frank headed to Quest Star to finish up some work on the new website he was putting together for the store. Integrating the online payment module was proving more difficult that he had thought it would, and he was hoping to have it working seamlessly before the weekend was over. The coding wasn't complicated, but there was obviously one minor syntax error that was causing the program to crash part way through a transaction, and it would be easier to find it when the store was empty, and he could be certain of not being interrupted. He turned on the computer in Chuck's office, brought up the site in code view, and settled in to read each line character by character.

He hadn't been there long when he heard a key in the front door's lock. Instinctively, he stilled, knowing that any motion would draw attention to his presence.

"I'll have them for you next week." It was a man's voice. "The new kid took more training time than I wanted." A long pause. "Yes. Indistinguishable. You have my word." The key turned in the lock again then heavy footsteps came toward the counter, slowing as they approached the office. "Chuck?"

Frank stayed at the computer, keeping his eyes locked on the screen in front of him as the footsteps grew closer. The reflection in the monitor showed a heavy-set white man, looking to be about five-ten or so and probably in his late thirties or early forties with dark hair and nondescript features. His expression hardened as he stepped into the office.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I could probably ask you the same question," Frank said, putting an edge in his voice.

The man's eyes moved to the computer screen, his shoulders relaxing. "Oh, you're Chuck's design guy. Zeke?"

"Zack." He stared at the man, keeping his face still.

"Call me Bob," the man said. He jerked his head toward the back of the store. "I'm the tenant. Chuck says good things about your work."

Frank snorted. "Chuck's easily impressed."

"Really?" Bob shifted so most of his weight was on his left leg, the cell phone he had been speaking into earlier held lightly in his left hand. "He that clueless or are you that good?"

"Both."

Bob laughed. "He showed me those badges you made for the staff. They were pretty good."

"They were crap." Frank shrugged. "With the right software I could've made Chuck an ID proving he worked for the FBI that an agent wouldn't have questioned ."

"Really." This time it wasn't a question.

Frank stared back, his face expressionless.

"Now that's something I'd be interested in seeing." Bob reached over Frank's arm and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the desk. He shoved the phone into his pocket, moved the pen to his left hand, and scribbled a number on the paper. "Tell you what. When you make one of those IDs, text me a picture of it. If I like what I see, I might be able to offer you a job. I'm always on the lookout for good… designers." The cell phone rang, and he put it to his ear. "Give me a sec, okay?" He looked at Frank. "Nice to meet you, Zack." Then he walked out of the office toward the door at the back of the store.

Frank let out a deep breath, then grabbed his own phone from his back pocket. He opened a message screen, scrolled down to the contact labeled 'Dad', and typed one word in the blank field.

Contact.