Three restless nights without Michael were what Stevie had been dealing with. She never quite liked being away from him or sleeping alone. They spent the night together on their first date, and nothing was the same since then.

It was a little after midnight, she had been in bed since 9, and had slept sporadically since then. Now, she existed in one of the random moments where she would awaken for no particular reason. She turned over and lightly brushed her arm against the space that Michael would have otherwise occupied. It was cold and unsettling.

A set of tires screeched somewhere outside. Stevie quickly dismissed it as an accident down the street, or kids fooling around – it was Saturday night, after all.

But it got closer. She could hear whatever it was round a corner and then promptly stop in front of her house.

In her exhausted stupor, she glanced over at the curtains and through the tiny cracks, flashes of blue and white emergency lights seeped through.

Michael!

There were no other cars, no more screeching, no sirens, no heavy engines… nothing! This couldn't be some kind of emergency in the neighborhood… whatever was outside came for her.

Stevie tore the covers off and leapt out of bed. She sprinted downstairs to the front door and pulled it open with such force and speed, that the person on the other side was taken aback.

And it was the last person Stevie wanted to see.

Natalie Markins stood outside and faced Stevie with a grim expression.

Stevie's heart and stomach seemed to sink almost simultaneously. She was instantly weak in her knees and she began to sob. Natalie thankfully caught her and pulled her close, "We have to go, Steff," she said.

Natalie got Stevie to the airport in record time. Aside from a painful phone call to Michael's parents, she sat still the whole way, gazing out the window. Her tear-streaked face was seen only by the street-lights that danced through the windows of the car. She would quietly sob every few minutes – Natalie would place a reassuring hand on her shoulder in a pale attempt to relax her.

She didn't tell Stevie a lot of details, despite her prodding and demanding. Natalie figured that if she told Stevie that Lonnie was dead, and both Muntzy and Michael were barely alive as it is, she would assume the worst and begin to panic that much more. The dreadful and discombobulated call from Taylor simply demanded she get Stevie to Las Vegas and tell her nothing else. Natalie shared only that all three agents have been shot.

As they pulled up to a hanger towards a waiting jet, Natalie cursed quietly under her breath. Ahead of them, a black sedan was parked by the airplane and two men stood there.

Natalie's boss and a man she didn't completely know. They were waiting for her.

"What is it?" Stevie asked.

Natalie shook her head, "No big deal, just standard procedure. Just a few assistant directors to see us off," she lied. She parked the car and turned to Stevie, "But do me a favor, grab your pack and go straight into the jet when we get out." Whatever they wanted, it concerned Stevie none, and this was not going to be an easy confrontation.

The car stopped and both women got out. Stevie heeded Natalie's instructions without question or incident, while Natalie walked up to the waiting men. They were dressed as well as they could be for being nearly one o'clock in the morning – in full suits but no ties. Her boss, Brandon Glass approached her with so much anger and rage in his steps, Natalie had to take a few steps backward.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Glass said.

Natalie tried to push past him and board the plane, but he grabbed her arm and forced her off the steps. This was no time to take offense or be aggressive… in any situation she would have slugged him straight in the jaw, but she decided to play it straight. They were wasting her time. "Is this really the right time, sir? Because I have to get a dying man's fiancé to his bedside and in three hours prepare her for the fact that he doesn't have a face anymore, and her closest girlfriend is dead."

The other assistant director spoke up, "Do you really think we're letting you go out there tonight?" he asked with an incredulous chuckle in his voice. Natalie recognized the man, she had seen him around a few times, but had no idea how he played into this matter. She thought his name was Stephens.

"I was supposed to be there!" Natalie hissed. She was careful to not raise her voice so Stevie wouldn't hear, but made it clear through her voice that she meant business, "Agent Taylor and I have a lot of work to do."

Stephens stepped uncomfortably close to Natalie's face, "You and Paul Taylor wont be anywhere near this case after what happened tonight. This was on Vegas turf – that field office will be conducting and concluding the investigation."

Natalie blinked, it was all she could do to keep her rage bottled up inside. And it would have to stay deep down for a long time, because there was no way she could let Stevie see her anger. She felt her watching from the window. "Are you kidding me?" she asked, "The Vegas Office has no investment in this case, and they don't know these people."

"Obviously neither do you," Stephens said.

Natalie tasted blood in her mouth; she had no idea she how hard she had bitten her tongue while these assistant directors insisted on browbeating her. "Now what is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means," he said, "You know the score. You're oh-for-two now, and no one needs to remind you of that."

"That's quite inaccurate, sir and you know it," she looked over at Glass, stared him straight in the eyes, trying to silently implore him to come to her defense as he had many times before when people couldn't handle her attitude and no-nonsense personality, but he remained silent. It was that moment she realized she was on her own, "I've analyzed plenty of subjects and cases that led to multiple arrests—"

Glass cut her off, "All of which mean nothing to what happened six years ago and what happened tonight. Do you have any idea how much of a disaster this is?"

Natalie stepped closer to the two men, perhaps too close. She could all but feel the breath of the second man, but to hell with it, she was angry. Everyone at the Bureau knew about her temper. Six years ago, she punched out a fellow agent when he stormed into her office and accused her of bad intel. Natalie maintained that the agent mis-read her report, others felt differently. There was never mutual agreement over the matter, but that decision committed her to being practically locked to a desk, instead of being in the field with other criminologists.

Tonight there was no question – her intelligence was bad and there was nothing she could do. No one had to remind her of the gravity of the situation… She knew full well how responsible she was. The worse part was having to look Stevie in the eye when both of them knew Natalie was at fault. Nothing could ever weigh on her conscience more – but Natalie resolved to herself, and would later promise to Stevie, Taylor, and anyone who would listen, that she would fix this.

She looked again at Glass, who had clearly abandoned her, and then again to the unknown Stephens, "You can stand in my way as much as you want, I don't care what happens to me anymore, but this is my case and I'm far from finished!"

She pushed past the men and boarded the jet. She had enough of these bureaucratic jerks who only wanted to save face instead of find the truth. She would stake everything on this case… But if she already did in the first place, what else did she have left?


Hours later, Taylor greeted Natalie and Stevie at the hospital. He tried to have as much a neutral expression on his face, but he could hardly contain his anguish or the grim news. When he saw Natalie wince when Stevie gripped her hand, he knew he had to come clean with the news, "They just pronounced Muntzy," he said.

A mix of grief and relief flashed over Stevie's face. Facing her was the last thing he wanted to do. Michael's prognosis wasn't good. He was left speechless, not only in the fact that he lost two agents, with another clinging to life, but also the massive failure of all the intelligence gathered. Tanya Walker engineered it all, and escaped with Wilson and Grey.

The strawberry blonde from the pictures, always at Acton's side. Whoever she was, she was a corporate black widow. She pulled off the greatest scheme in history, eluded the FBI's intelligence gathering and played the part of an innocent, doe-eyed executive assistant. He was determined to sit down with Natalie in the next few days to track back the other thefts involving Wilson and Grey and see if Tanya was involved with any of them. He was sure he would find her somewhere, because no one would have given any thought to look at secretaries and assistants. Tanya knew that all too well.

Everyone around him wanted answers. He had been fielding calls from his bosses for hours but had no answers to give. Acton demanded answers too, and was beyond angry that himself, his company, and the classified designs were all used as pawns in a blown mission. He threatened to sue, and Taylor knew full well the government would settle.

He was in hot water. This was his case, his mission, and it was botched in every way possible. The directors were looking to place blame, and he knew it would rest squarely on his leadership and Natalie's information.

Of course that was nothing compared to the blame he would have to burden from his fallen agent's families.

Stevie walked up to Taylor and shoved him into the wall. She screamed every obscenity possible at him while Natalie struggled to free her grasp from his coat and hold her back.

Natalie was taken by surprise, perhaps even more so than Taylor. Aside from a few sobs and sniffles, Stevie was stone-faced and virtually silent during the entire flight. She surmised that Stevie needed this release of emotion as the broken fiancée turned her rage onto Natalie and screamed "It's your fault," over and over. Natalie just held her tighter until Stevie stopped struggling and loudly cried into her chest. She couldn't have picked a worse person for this, Natalie thought, as Natalie really wasn't made to handle or display a lot of compassion. The best she could do was to hold Stevie as long as she needed.

It was perfect timing for all of them when a doctor came into their room just a few seconds later. Natalie sensed that Stevie wanted to be alone with the doctor and nodded to Taylor.

The two promptly left the room and shut the door behind them. Taylor quickly ushered Natalie off to a quiet part of the floor he found earlier and used to think. He grabbed Natalie by the shoulders, "Does anyone in DC know about Lonnie?"

Natalie shook her head, "Nothing at all." Taylor told her everything when he called her and at first she was completely taken by surprised and angered when he told her about Lonnie's treachery. But the sudden realization of what she had done, and being killed for it all the same helped Natalie level out – Lonnie was mis-guided, not a traitor, and she knew her and Taylor would do anything in their power to keep that covered up.

"Thank God," Taylor said. He released his grip on Natalie and leaned against a wall, "Look we don't have a lot of time left."

Natalie flashed him a quizzical look, "What are you talking about?"

"You really think either of us are going to have jobs here for long?"

"So that's what the AD's meant when I saw them in DC," Natalie said, "they said neither of us would be anywhere near this case."

"Who met you in DC?"

"My boss, Brandon Glass. And some assistant director named Stephens."

Taylor muttered Stephens' name a few times as he tried to figure out who met Natalie, "Not Timmy Stephens?" he asked, referencing an AD who oversaw computer sciences.

Natalie shook her head, "No definitely not him. This guy was taller, really thin, completely bald, but young looking. I've seen him a couple times before."

Taylor's eyes widened in surprise, "That's Burton Stephens… He's the Bureau's liaison to the NSA."

"Jesus," Natalie said, "what the hell does he have to do with any of this?"

"Natalie, they're working on damage control right now. They're gonna bury this case and us right along with it. We're going to be hung out to dry."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to get every single file connected to Wilson and Grey. Everything you've put together. Tanya Walker's invisible, I couldn't find a damn thing on her, but I bet you could find her in pictures with the other CEO's who've been ripped off."

"Paul, I'm sure they've already locked me of the database by now. They probably just did if they found out you were in there looking for Tanya."

"Natalie, you know what I'm asking of you."

She did. Aside from criminology, Natalie knew how to sidestep multiple security features relating to computers. Some might call it hacking, she called it talent. Either way, if she was locked out, she knew how to get back in, and best yet, she knew how to cover her tracks and disable any key-logging or tracking software. She nodded solemnly.

Taylor grimly smiled, "We're all alone on this," he repeated the statement three more times, and with each time his voice cracked more and more. He closed his eyes as hard as he could, and despite his best efforts, he broke down. Tears began to flow freely from his eyes and he looked up at Natalie, hoping for some kind of salvation or comfort.

But Taylor's anguished and painful expression was too much and shattered Natalie's normal bulletproof exterior. He must have seen her start to crack, because before she could make any effort, Taylor grabbed her and pulled her close to his chest. Natalie grabbed the lapels of Taylor's coat, roughly in the same spot Stevie did, but this time she used them to steady herself and keep herself pulled as close to him as possible while his arms tightened around her back.

"I'm sorry Paul," she said breathlessly and through tears, "My God… I'm so sorry!" She wanted to say more, but her stomach, resilience, and courage dropped from under her, and the best she could do was to cry with Paul. He was right… all they had left was each other.


The attending physician looked at Stevie from across the small table. She wondered how many times he's had conversations like these with frightened wives or loved ones. He had a calming presence about him, which was in stark contrast with the no-nonsense Army doctors Michael's parents told her about.

His parents… When Stevie called them from the car, his mother went into near shock and his father cried, something Stevie never experienced before, even when Michael was wounded overseas. She assured them she would get Michael home to them if and when his condition stabilized. The one thing his mother did say to her was for her to be strong for the lot of them. Stevie told them she would. She lied.

Stevie felt weak. Her minor outburst took a lot out of her, whatever energy she had. She had no idea what time it was; it had to be early morning back in DC. The doctor could tell Stevie was zoning in and out and took care to repeat things to her and give her hand a small squeeze every now and then.

"He's in critical condition," he said, "We're keeping him in an medically induced coma for now and he lost a lot of blood. He's very lucky, Miss Mason," the doctor continued, "Michael was shot point-blank. That bullet would have tore straight through his brain and killed him instantly had it not been deflected."

"Deflected?"

"He had a metal plate in his forehead," the doctor said.

Stevie nodded, she knew that metal plate well. He got that when his COINTEL unit escaped from captivity years ago. His partners knew it and loved it, calling him the man of steel, even though it was medical-grade titanium, knocking on it for good luck… Michael tried to make the best out of every situation, even though he had been more pessimistic lately. He refused to let that injury get him down, but the medical discharge took care of that.

It had brought them closer together, Stevie never forgot that. Shortly after hearing about his injury from his parents, she chided herself for being so difficult when he signed up for another tour and switched classifications. She knew to support him no matter what from that point, especially after he proposed.

And he needed that support. He was ready to go back once he healed and settle some scores, he said. But the military had other ideas and was not ready to send a wounded warrior back into the mix. Stevie held the normally strong-willed, towering man as he cried over his discharge papers. Papers that, for all intents and purposes, praised him for serving his country but also said thanks but no thanks.

The FBI was his saving grace. Thanks to advice from his former commanding officer in addition to letters of commendation in his government jacket, he was a shoe-in to join to Bureau and sailed through the academy with ease. Stevie could hardly believe that had been six years ago.

"The plate deflected the bullet through Michael's face," the doctor continued. He paused when Stevie winced. "His face was… it was completely destroyed. The bullet shattered several bones, damaged a number of arteries, caused extensive damage to his sinus system and significant nerve damage. At this point, we can't even tell if he still has vision."

She had to wonder, did the plate really save his life or just prolong the inevitable?

"And I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm not confident of his survival odds."

"How bad is it?" Stevie asked. She was unsure if she wanted to hear the actual answer or not, but the question escaped her lips before she could stop it. She bit her lip, maintaining in her mind that she would be strong no matter what the odds were. A lump formed in her through but she kept telling herself not to cry.

"Less than 25 percent."

That sent Stevie over the edge. The lump in her throat swelled to such an extent that the only thing she could do was cry. She longed for all of this to be just a dream, where Michael would wake her up, kiss her and tell her everything would be OK.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes before a commotion outside caught their attention. The door to the room flew open and Taylor bounded in. Behind him, a hospital trauma team was rushing down the hallway. The doctor leapt to his feet to join them while Taylor told Stevie to come along.

At this point, Stevie still had not seen Michael, and the glimpse she got of him didn't reveal much. Nurses and doctor's surrounded her fiancé in chaotic fashion and spoke all at once. She strained to try to hear the words that were being said, but all she could make out was confusing medical terminology mixed with layman words involving crashing, trauma, bleeding out, and emergency surgery.

The team quickly started to wheel Michael's bed down the hallway towards the elevators, with Stevie, Taylor, and Natalie in tow. The doctor whom had been talking to Stevie stopped the trio at the elevators. "We need to take him upstairs right away," he said, "We're taking care of him, Ms. Mason, I promise," he gave an assuring smile as the doors closed.

Taylor and Natalie ushered Stevie back to the waiting room down the hall. Had they not turned around at that moment, they would have noticed the elevator bypass the surgery floor and go straight to the rooftop helipad…