Consequences Part 1

She was fury, she was wrath, she was vengeance - Sarah J. Maas

"Sign there…and there…initial there, there and there, sign and date at the bottom."

The last piece of paper was whipped away, and a folder replaced it. "Prelim reports, they're all there, even Morgan's," said Pip, "might as well get them signed now, as they're done." She sat back in her seat in front of Rossi's desk to give him time to read through them.

Rossi scanned the reports idly, knowing that unless there were major issues, he'd be signing them all off anyway. The actual case reports weren't due for another week or so, but the prelims had to be in within twelve hours of returning to base.

Her report was last in the pile. He looked up briefly once he'd read it, studying her slightly furtive expression. He looked back down, his eyes zeroing in on the part that interested him the most.

"Uncomfortable with Agent Cho's request, I insisted on using the bathroom before leaving with him. Using that as an excuse, I found a vest in the armoury to put on. There was also a spare blood pack, which I picked up on impulse."

She'd left out everything that was important. Rossi glanced up at Pip once more before signing the report with a flourish and tucking the pile back in the folder. "Is that all the paperwork done?" he asked casually, handing her the folder.

Pip twitched, like she'd been expecting a different question. "That's it, we're good to go."

Rossi gave her an easy smile and stood to gather his coat. "Your place or mine? Or do you want to go out? Mama Rosa's will still be open."

Pip shuddered, another clear sign that the calm, chirpy exterior masked a veritable hurricane inside. "Mine. I need somewhere…small, where I can see all four walls. I can barely see the horizon in your living room."

It was an exaggeration of course, but the sentiment remained. It was a little unsettling to realise that Pip still didn't always feel comfortable in his house. No wonder she didn't want to move in.

Dinner was comfort food, which in Pip's terms, meant bacon. Two enormous bacon sandwiches later, they were snuggled together on her sofa with a bottle of red, absently watching and taking no notice of a late-night nature documentary about kangaroos.

"Pip, that vest…" started Rossi.

"You read my prelim," Pip interrupted, shifting so she wasn't lounged against him anymore. He always knew it would be a difficult conversation, but it felt like Pip was gearing up for battle.

Rossi nodded. "Yes, I did," he said with a raised eyebrow. "I just don't believe it."

"You signed it."

Which made it a legal record. He knew what he'd done.

"Yes, I did," Rossi agreed firmly, "and it will go in the file along with your case report, which will undoubtedly be just as light on the actual details as your prelim. I trust you. There's obviously a reason you left out certain things, so I signed it, and I'll sign your case report too." He paused to let that sink in and took a deep breath. "But you didn't get that vest from the armoury, big blood packs like that aren't just lying around waiting to be picked up, and nothing in your report explains why you knew you'd need either in the first place. I want to know the truth."

Pip had the good grace to look a little ashamed, although that could have been because he'd caught her out so easily. "Bit of a long story."

Rossi snorted. "Always is."

Pip shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose so." She relaxed back next to him and took a sip of her wine.

"How did you know?"

"I got a tip-off."

"Who from?" Twenty Questions wasn't what he'd had in mind, but he'd do it if he had to.

"Dirty cop who isn't," replied Pip with a rueful half-smile. She chuckled a little as Rossi raised a disbelieving eyebrow in her direction. "Told you it was complicated, didn't I? He came and found me when I was out getting coffee, just popped up next to me without a sound. He…" Pip paused. "I'm not sure quite how to explain it…he's a dirty cop, he takes payoffs from gangs, everyone knows that, they're all just too scared to say it…but no one knows he's running for Internal Affairs too, and the money goes to crime victims and local churches and soup kitchens and stuff. Almost like a twisted version of Robin Hood, but…I mean, the things I've heard about him…him and his partner…stories of people disappearing and being buried somewhere when they get on the wrong side of him, signed confessions that come with bloodstains, or written on napkins pinned to the body, stuff like that. I wouldn't like to speculate on Cho's life expectancy in custody. Even if only a tiny bit of the lore is true, he's pissed off one scary bad dude."

"And you trusted this guy?" That was the first thing Rossi had trouble understanding. There were others, but Pip's trust issues meant there were still things she kept from him. To expend so much of such a rare commodity on someone so utterly unworthy was completely unlike her. "He sounds like the rottenest apple in the barrel."

Pip swirled her wine around in the glass. "He told me something only Ian and I knew, then followed up that shock with an even bigger one. He was Ian's connection in CPD, a source of intel on gang activities and internal politics in the areas Rostov controlled…he was basically an undocumented confidential informant, and from what I remember, some of our smaller wins we had were entirely down to what he passed onto Ian. He was far more involved than I ever knew because Ian never told us where he got his information."

"And he told you Cho was behind Henderson's death? Warned you to find a vest?"

"No, he gave me the vest and blood pack and held my wallet and cell while I used the backseat of his car to put it on." Pip chuckled. "Not as easy as it sounds, believe me. It's a new private sector prototype yet to be released and it doesn't do up the same way as the ones I've worn before. I practically tied myself in knots trying to get into it without flashing the entire street." She rolled her eyes. "Only one in existence and I ruin it with a blood pack and a round dead centre. I'd like to see how he's going to explain that."

"Hey." Rossi nudged her with his shoulder. "This is me you're talking to. I know you." Quit with the light-hearted humour, in other words, because he wasn't buying a single word. "Why trust him, of all people?"

Pip sighed. "I didn't. I wasn't going to do anything but exactly what he said to be honest, because he's the sort of guy where you feel like every second, he's barely restraining himself from beating you to a bloody pulp. Scared me shitless. He said he wanted Cho for his own reasons, told me that one of the men killed during Cho's little campaign was an informant and a friend of his." She snorted. "I've no idea if any of that's even true. I didn't think so at the time, but frankly I figured if I was helping him get his revenge, I wasn't in his way, you know? Didn't matter if it was true, only that he thought it was. I get the feeling that people don't tend live long if they're standing in his way."

"Was he one of the cops that came with Morgan?" asked Rossi, remembering the two men smirking at each other. Morgan had told him of the police escort under lights and sirens that felt like a Presidential motorcade through the city, from two CPD officers that had followed them to Cho's second apartment and offered their help to bring him in.

Pip nodded. "Him and his partner, yes. They put a tracker on the vest, but I guess there must have been a problem with it, because I expected them to arrive before you."

Little acts of justice made the world keep turning. Cho was locked up where he belonged, in the unlikely event he was ever deemed fit, he'd stand trial for what he'd done, provived he lived that long. With some unsung help from a dirty-ish cop that needed to stay out of the reports, Pip was alive, and they'd got their man. Rossi could live with that, and he'd sign her report as he promised, missing details and all.

He reached over to gently cup her jaw in his hand. "Does that still hurt?" he asked, running his thumb softly over the bruise at her temple.

"Only my pride," she muttered, leaning into his touch. "Cho accosted me just as I was coming back with the coffee. He said he wanted to apologise, and that he wanted to show me something." She shrugged. "He seemed really genuine and I wanted to believe him. He didn't hit me until after I'd got in the car, and when I woke up I was bound and blindfolded. I feel rather stupid, actually."

For all that Pip said she was unforgiving, her capacity for compassion was astonishing. Perhaps to the point of being a little naïve. Rossi would certainly never got into a car with Cho, no matter how much he abased himself. He pulled her into his side, back where she'd been nestled before the conversation had started. "You're alive, that's the only thing I care about," he said, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"I knew you'd get there in time," replied Pip absently. "I told you before that I know you've got my back."

"Of course I have." Rossi hugged her a little tighter. "But I'm going to start chaining you to your desk so you don't end up in these situations in the first place."

Pip snorted. "Whips and chains? David Rossi, is there something you want to tell me?" she teased.

Rossi laughed. "You know all there is to know." Including the fact that he had a bit of a kink for handcuffs. She really did know everything.

Except, that wasn't really true, was it? The siren call of his latest foray into jewellery catalogues sounded out once more from the bottom of his go-bag, much as it had on the jet. A silent chime of knowing that only he could hear. He'd show her, later. Much later, like maybe in six months, or even a year. Not yet. But there was something he could show her...Rossi stood to rummage in his bag.

"I bought you something," he said, holding out the box hesitantly. He was almost positive she'd like it, but there was always a chance that she wouldn't.

Pip opened the box to reveal a little gold apple pendant on a chain. "Oh, Dave! It's beautiful!" She tugged her plait to one side and offered her neck invitingly. "Would you?"

He took great pleasure in draping the fine chain around her neck, and even more when Pip pulled him around for a blistering kiss. It seemed he had a good grasp on her taste in jewellery, reassuring knowledge indeed. Looking down at her, the apple rested gently against the bruise on her chest from Cho's round. Her luck had held, but Pip's relationship with luck was a complicated one. She seemed to survive the unsurvivable, yet fall foul to the simplest of things.

She caught the direction of his gaze and shifted her shirt so the bruise was concealed once more. Fair enough, Rossi decided. If she didn't want to talk about it yet, then that was ok. He wasn't in the mood to think about how much danger she'd been in either.

They retired to bed once the wine was empty, the evening passing in quiet reflection for both of them.

"Are you going to be ok about everything that happened?" asked Rossi as she snuggled into him. He fully expected her to have nightmares.

Pip shrugged in his arms. "It's nice to know some of the reasons I guess. I never knew why we were ambushed, and now I do, not that it changes anything."

Because the man behind it all was still at large. Rossi hugged her tighter, surrounding her with his physical presence. "He'll get himself caught eventually," he asserted. "They always do."

"Yeah, for tax evasion," snorted Pip. "Not exactly the closure I was looking for."

Several days later, Rossi wished he'd paid more attention to that.

The following morning started innocently enough. Pip had predictably suffered through a restless night's sleep punctuated by bad dreams, and as it was a Saturday, the two of them simply migrated from bed to sofa to drowse the day away. It was warm in her apartment and Rossi was making the most of it – dressed only in his boxers, he lounged back against the arm of the sofa with Pip nestled between his legs, using his chest as a pillow as she caught up on the sleep she didn't get the night before.

He was contemplating whether he ought to wake her so he could use the bathroom, or if he could afford wait another five minutes. There was something completely adorable about the way Pip had basically curled up on him, not that he'd ever mention that while she was conscious, not if he wanted to keep his balls where they belonged. But while she was safely asleep, snuggled into him, her slow even breaths tickling the hair on his chest, Pip was definitely adorable and he hadn't wanted to move and disturb her.

That all came to an end as her cell started to bray a nineties pop-punk tune that began with a raucous drum intro. Fucking tune was enough to wake the dead, and it certainly woke Pip. Her hand groped blindly for her cell, missing twice before Rossi used his longer reach to snag it from the coffee table and put it in front of her, by then screaming a guitar solo. Pip mumbled something that was probably appreciation in some form, although she was perfectly capable of saying "thank you" in a way that sounded like "fuck off", even when half asleep.

Rossi extricated himself from underneath her as she sat up to answer the call. The easy smile she gave him was all the reassurance Rossi needed to move in the direction of the bathroom without worrying who she was talking to. Some friend or other that he didn't know, that much was clear. Not the Bureau calling them back in for a case.

"You're sure?" Pip was asking as Rossi returned. "I don't want to…really? Well, in that case, I'd love to, I'm not going to turn down an opportunity like that! Who…" She rolled her eyes at the response. "You want to watch yourself with that one. Slippery as an eel, and a morality so twisted he could walk through a corkscrew sideways with no trouble." Pip laughed at something her friend said, catching Rossi's eye to include him in the smile. "Boy trouble" she mouthed at him before grinning once more. "I'll see them there." She hung up. "I've been invited to a weekend thing with some friends of a friend. She's had to pull out and she's offering to let me go in her place."

Rossi would have been lying if he said he didn't mind, that he hadn't been hoping for two days of just the two of them after the stress of Chicago, but the look on her face meant he never mention it. Pip looked so excited by the idea that Rossi couldn't find it in his heart to put any kind of hurdle in the way of her plans.

So, Pip packed a bag and vanished, leaving Rossi alone in her apartment feeling at a bit of a loose end. Since Mudgie had passed, just sitting and playing solitaire or reading seemed a bit…lonely. Impulsively, Rossi dug out some clothes and padded down two flights of stairs to see Griffin.

Griffin's door was open and the sounds of activity from within drew him inside. "Griffin? You around?" called Rossi.

"Wondered when you'd turn up," commented Todd as he emerged from the kitchen, handing Rossi a coffee with one hand and a paintbrush with the other. "Painting party?" he offered hopefully.

"I feel like I've been press-ganged," grumbled Rossi half-heartedly. "How did…"

Griffin stuck his head around the bathroom door, a splodge of pale blue paint on his cheek. "Boss said you'd probably want some company as she left," he said with a sympathetic smile. "Where's she going anyway?"

"Spa weekend I think," replied Rossi, taking a slurp from the coffee Todd had given him before looking for a pot of paint to use, resigned to helping the pair of them with their endeavours. It was a good job he'd put on an old shirt. "That's what it sounded like, anyway."

Griffin edged his way around the ladder blocking the hallway. "Really?" he asked dubiously. "Doesn't sound like her sort of thing. I mean…don't take this the wrong way, Rossi, but she's not exactly the most…girly sort of girl."

Todd nodded his agreement. "She's more dude than some of the dudes I know." He grinned. "And not just the dudes that are into other dudes, if you see what I'm sayin'."

Rossi just shrugged and with that second unnoticed hint that things weren't exactly as they seemed, set to work helping Todd and Griffin redecorating. It was quite satisfying actually, and within a few hours, Rossi had quite forgotten about his disappointment that Pip had gone off with her friends for the weekend.

With three of them working, by the time Pip arrived home on Sunday evening the bathroom was finished and the old tiling in the kitchen had been ripped out, the awful architraving in the hallway had been ceremonially burned and most of the holes in the living room plaster were filled and ready to paint. For once, Rossi actually felt like he achieved something over the weekend, rather than just vegetate after another stressful week at work.

Pip seemed more settled when she returned, and Rossi could only assume two days of massages and jacuzzi time with some friends had been exactly what she needed; regardless of how he felt about her achieving that peace of mind without his help. It seemed that the ghosts of Chicago had been laid to rest somehow, and he was simply grateful for that.

Especially after Pip showed him just how much she'd missed him. He was pretty sure he'd blacked out for a second or two actually, and the aftershocks still made his toes curl about twenty minutes afterwards. He felt so reassured of her wellbeing that he barely acknowledged her decision to go over to Garcia's for a proper finale to her girly weekend. He was quite happy just to lounge on the sofa with a well-deserved beer.

The sense of ease and new beginnings lasted until Security phoned early the following morning as Rossi was ploughing through his emails. He turned away from the screen with a sigh, assuming the call meant another case.

"Rossi," he said wearily. The weekend had been great, but it seemed nothing changed in the BAU, lately, it felt like there was always another case.

"Agent Rossi, you've got a visitor. He says he needs to speak to you but doesn't want to come up to your office. Could you come down?"

"Sure," Rossi replied absently. "I'll be right there." At least it didn't sound like they were off on another field trip, not yet anyway.

"I'm going out for a bit, I'll be on my cell if anyone needs me," he said to Pip as he passed AST on his way out. Griffin still had some paint on his face that no amount of scrubbing had shifted, and Pip had her nose buried in the morning newspaper. Phillips nodded when Pip didn't respond, Rossi just shrugged and continued on his way, another hint missed.

"Morning!" bellowed Perez cheerfully as Rossi approached the security desk. He looked far too chipper for first thing on a Monday, sporting a friendly grin and with a newspaper tucked casually under one arm. "Had a good weekend, did you?"

A little taken aback by the identity of his visitor, Rossi just nodded. "I did some redecorating with Pip's neighbours."

"Hmm." Perez cocked his head. "I wondered."

Before Rossi could work out quite what that meant, Perez was ushering him outside. "Come on, let's go and get a coffee," Perez suggested.

"Coffee" apparently meant a ride in Perez's chauffeured car, which was waiting just by the doors.

"You're not supposed to park here, you know," commented Rossi as they climbed in.

Perez just smirked. "Privileges of rank," he said loftily. "Has to be something to compensate for the paperwork," he added ruefully. He leaned forward to mutter something to his driver, who nodded briskly and the car pulled away.

Twenty minutes later, Rossi was starting to get a little concerned. "Where are we going?" he asked, watching the commercial areas vanish into the distance. If they were going for coffee, apparently they were going towards the marine base for it.

"Trust me, it'll be worth it," replied Perez evasively, and would say nothing more on the matter.

Eventually, the car stopped in front of an unassuming house on an unassuming road not too far from the base. All the houses looked the same. "If a man's home is his castle, then this is my humble castle," said Perez with a smile.

Rossi took a look up and down the street. "I thought you'd live somewhere…"

"Grander?" supplied Perez. He shook his head. "I need to know how ground-level troops think, so I live with them in base housing, just like they do. How better to know the men under one's command, if not to run into them at three in the morning making an emergency stop for milk?"

"None of these men are under your command, General," disputed Rossi.

Perez flapped a dismissive hand. "Several layers of administration and creative misunderstanding lie between they and I, it's true, but they are the ones carrying out my orders, one way or another. I like to know how that feels for them, otherwise I could misjudge what they're capable of. It's too easy for men, or women, in my position to forget how the rank and file see things." He reached for the door handle. "Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

His driver jumped from the car to open the door for him before Perez had a chance to do it himself. Perez shook his head. "I've told you about this, Collins, I don't need you to wait on me. I'm perfectly capable of climbing from this ridiculously expensive car without your help." He grabbed the bag Collins had retrieved from the trunk. "And I don't need you to carry my bags for me, either. I may be old, but I'm not that old. Stay here and wait for us, we shouldn't be too long."

Collins grinned. "Yessir. I'll just listen to the radio for a bit then, shall I?" He slouched back into the driver's seat and flicked the radio on.

"You've got an exam in three days," said Perez disapprovingly.

Collins straightened in his seat, turned the radio off and retrieved a text book from the passenger seat. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," he apologised.

Perez chuckled. "You'll pass with flying colours, we both know that, then you can be off doing something far more worthwhile that driving my sorry fat ass around all day. Put your feet up, man. Read one of those daft comic books I know you've got stashed in the door pocket. That's an order."

"Graphic novels, sir," chided Collins gently, already reaching for his comic. He and Perez grinned at each other.

"Oh, I'm going to miss him when he's gone," complained Perez as Rossi followed him up the driveway. "Collins has been my driver for nearly two years now. Good lad, with a decent sense of humour, an essential in my opinion, considering how much time we spend together. Bright, with lots of promise, although he has an unfortunate weakness for fish tacos." Perez grimaced in distaste. "The smell lingers in the upholstery for days."

Rossi laughed, just as the front door opened. "Brace yourself," Perez muttered, before striding the last two steps to the threshold, holding out his arms in invitation. "Maria, my darling! It's good to see you."

"Two days!" shrieked the short brunette holding the door open. "You swan off with no explanation, in the middle of breakfast with my sister, who now thinks you are avoiding her, and turn up without a word of warning two days later! With a stranger." She looked Rossi up and down before glancing back at Perez. "Are you going to tell me who he is, or should I guess, much like I have to guess where the hell you've been all weekend?" she asked acidly.

Rossi held out a hand to shake. "I'm David Rossi…"

Maria ignored the offered hand. "Yes, I'm sure you are," she replied, glancing from his hand to his face, then back to her husband. "Who is he?"

"Friend of Russet's," murmured Perez. "I would have introduced him if I'd been allowed to," he added with a smile.

There was one of those non-verbal conversations that only besotted couples can have, then Maria pulled Perez down for a kiss so passionate Rossi averted his eyes, somewhat embarrassed. Having put a thoroughly smug and loved-up expression on her husband's face, Maria turned her attention to Rossi. Because he had been trying not to intrude on their private moment, he was completely unprepared when she grabbed him around the neck. For one dreadful second Rossi thought she was going to kiss him too, but he escaped with a peck on each cheek and an overly-familiar pat on the bum.

"Any friend of hers is a friend of ours," she murmured warmly in his ear. "Welcome."

She twined her hand with that of her husband. "There is a fresh pot of coffee made. Do you need some privacy?" she asked.

"Do you mind, my dear?" Perez brought her hand up to press a kiss to her palm.

Maria rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't have asked, if I did," she said mockingly. She grabbed a lightweight coat and her handbag from the hallway table. "I'm borrowing Collins to take Mrs Jefferies to the park for a bit." It wasn't a question.

"I don't mind if he doesn't mind," replied Perez, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling in amusement.

Maria chuckled and stepped past them. "Wipe your feet!" she called sharply over her shoulder.

Rossi, whose foot still hung in mid-air about to step on the hardwood floor, stopped and obediently wiped his feet.

"Isn't she glorious?" breathed Perez happily, once the door was shut behind her. "Like a she-panther with her hackles up. Am I a lucky hombre, or what?" He led the way down the hall to the kitchen, where a pot of coffee was sending tantalising whiffs of caffeine through the air.

"That was…" Rossi breathed out. It had been intense. A bit like talking to Pip, although Pip didn't usually concentrate all the different extremes of her character into one short exchange. "…interesting."

His mind was turning things over, even as he tried to regain his composure. Perez had been out of town at the same time as Pip, and his wife's personality bore striking similarities to hers. Something cold lodged at the base of Rossi's stomach as his overly-active imagination filled in the gaps.

With coffee poured, Rossi followed Perez's lead and sat opposite the General at the kitchen table. He couldn't trust himself to say anything without it coming out as an accusation, so Rossi said nothing. He did manage a questioning gaze – it was a gentle nudge to get Perez talking, that's all. Not a pointed glare. Well…maybe a little.

"I know you heard what my wife said about me being away for two days, and I know what you're thinking," commented Perez. "Russet and I did not spend the weekend together."

"I didn't…" Rossi stopped as Perez raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Alright, I wondered," he admitted, although he remained unconvinced that Perez's intentions were entirely honourable.

Perez nodded. "Of course you did. I can assure you we did not spend the weekend together, however our respective absences were not entirely unrelated." Perez reached for his newspaper. "Her trouble has always been her sense of justice," he noted cryptically. He met Rossi's eyes over the top of the paper as he flicked through the pages. "I always knew what she was, all the time she was supposed to be my principal aide. One does not get far in Military Intelligence without some knowledge of how these things work."

"I suppose not," agreed Rossi uneasily, still trying to work out where the conversation was going.

"She told you we once…" Perez shifted uncomfortably and lowered the newspaper for a moment. "She must have done, or you would not have assumed that was what we were doing this past weekend."

Rossi took a fortifying gulp of his coffee, wondering whether he ought to be saving some to throw at the General. Which would be a shame, because it was really good. He nodded. "Yes, she did, but only that you had."

Perez sighed and put the paper down. "I'm rather older than she and should have known better. I was a younger man then, and I made a young man's mistake. She was upset and lonely and had no one else to turn to. It was a dreadfully irresponsible thing to do." He took a sip of his coffee. "There was a…a target, the last one before she was to leave her position in my office and go out on her own. It went badly." He waved a negligent hand. "It was chance, one wrong move at the wrong time by an innocent who had no idea what was about to happen. That was all. So it goes. But instead of a quiet shot to remove a dangerous man, half a shanty town burned, killing dozens of bystanders. She blamed herself for every last casualty and when she turned to me for comfort, I let myself get carried away."

Another example of Pip using sex as an escape mechanism. Rossi wondered if that had been the first time, the trigger that had set that pattern. But that only part of it. He narrowed his eyes. "Your mistake wasn't sleeping with her, it was falling in love with her, wasn't it?" he accused.

Perez barked rueful laughter and nodded. "Oh yes, but that had happened long before the incident I just mentioned. Four years working so closely together, it was inevitable."

Rossi blinked, surprised. "You never told her."

"No," said Perez airily. "I was a married man who missed his wife, and bearing the heartbreak when Russet left me was penance for breaking my wedding vows."

Rossi analysed that. It wasn't that Maria was like Pip, it was more that Pip was like Maria. Perez had seen something of his highly volatile wife in Pip and things had developed from there.

"Her Passing Out Parade was her simply walking out of my bunkroom with her backpack over one shoulder and Angel over the other, still with the mark of my teeth upon her breast from what we'd done previous evening," Perez continued. "I never told her how I felt, and I never will." He fixed Rossi with a heavy gaze. "The way she looks when she talks about you...I will not jeopardise that. There was a time when I foolishly wished she would look at me that way, but now I am just glad she has found someone worthy of her regard." He busied himself with the newspaper once more.

Rossi eased back in his seat, feeling a little more convinced that Pip and her pet General had not made a fool of him.

Perez grunted, having apparently found what it was he was looking for in the newspaper, and prevaricated by folding it fussily. "I kept an eye on her, as much as I could, but I never meant for her to get tangled up with Sergei Rostov."

Rossi choked and coughed as his coffee went down the wrong way. "Rostov?"

Perez nodded. "We've been trying to bring down the Rostov empire since it was run by his grandfather. Sergei is a dinosaur, a man out of his time. He runs things just the same as they always have been, like his father and grandfather, and an unknown number of grandfathers before. No technology, no cell phones, no emails, no electronic tracking. Everything is done by hard copy passed between trusted people or by word of mouth. Impossible to infiltrate, and believe me, we've lost some good people over the years trying."

"What does that have to do with Pip?" asked Rossi impatiently. As interesting as a little more background on Rostov was, he couldn't see the connection.

Perez shook his head. "Be patient. You will have to allow me to circle the point a little before leaping in," he demurred. "We've known for a while that when Sergei died or retired, his grandson Mikhail would step into his shoes, because Sergei's son Arkady and his two top lieutenants were among those killed in the same incident that nearly killed Russet. That shooting was a shock, the result of a horrible convergence of events, not least the fact that there was a leak in my own operation as well as the task force. I never did find out who it was."

Rossi's eyes widened. Obviously he knew about Hollis, but it seemed there was an additional player, someone else to blame for Pip's shooting.

"It worked in our favour, in a roundabout fashion," continued Perez. "Better Mikhail in charge than Arkady or one of Sergei's lieutenants, all of whom were of the same mould as Sergei and his predecessors." Perez shot Rossi a look that spoke of his genuine relief, despite the circumstances. "Die-hard lunatics, the lot of them."

Perez paused for a draught of his coffee. "Mikhail has a friend, a computer genius," he continued. "One of ours, sort of. He has been guiding Mikhail since they met at college years ago, showing him the wonders of cyberspace and what the dark web could do for the business. When Mikhail drags the Rostov family into the 21st century, we will be there, right alongside him. No need for expensive wiretaps that can be traced, or electronic monitoring that can be detected. We will simply always have had access, from the beginning. Built into their very hardware by our man on the inside. They will never know we are listening and with luck and a little time, we can cripple international arms sales the world over."

"Brilliant," breathed Rossi. It was a rather well thought out, if convoluted plan.

Perez nodded a little smugly. "Thank you." He tipped his coffee in Rossi's direction in salute, then dropped the newspaper, folded to highlight a small article hidden near the centrefold, onto the table between them. "I buried it on page 24, down the bottom where no one bothers to read."

Rossi scanned the article, aware that his pulse was rising.

Chicago gang leader dead in Virginia apartment…Russian national Sergei Rostov…apparent suicide…Police not currently looking for anyone in connection with the death.

Rossi scrubbed his face with one hand, re-reading the short piece more carefully. "It wasn't suicide, was it? She did this."

Perez nodded. "Like I said, she was never supposed to be involved, but then she was, and I could do nothing about it. The task force set up in Chicago was my idea. It was supposed to be a diversion, a legitimate operation to keep his eyes looking in the wrong direction, and if it mopped up a few bad eggs along the way, so much the better." He shook his head regretfully. "I did not conceive that her team would end up being drafted into it. I couldn't have stopped it," he added with a shrug, "and I didn't try because that little group of agents were highly successful."

"You thought they might actually get you something useful."

"Yes," agreed Perez simply, "and because it would have looked odd if I'd tried. Not that my objections would have mattered in the slightest if I'd voiced them, I've never had any luck telling her not to do something she wants to."

Rossi nodded with rueful understanding and they both chuckled a little, knowing Pip as they both did. "So she found out where he was and went after him," he mused. "Someone called her early Saturday morning, invited her out for the weekend."

Perez nodded. "That coincides with my knowledge. I've had people watching Rostov since he re-entered the US, people in various roles from military to state and federal law enforcement. It seems I have another leak in my operation." He waved a hand. "It is not an unusual or particularly surprising occurrence, and sometimes we use that to our advantage to spread disinformation, but I wasn't aware until too late that I had someone talking to Russet without me knowing. She has connections in places I hadn't appreciated."

"You and me both," murmured Rossi ruefully.

"Early Saturday afternoon, I got a call that there was someone who wasn't one of ours watching Rostov's new location in Virginia. It didn't take long to work out who it was."

"You must have known what she was going to do," said Rossi, his temper rising.

"Yes," replied Perez gently. "I knew what she was going to do, but that didn't take any great leaps of deduction. Vengeance for Collingwood and all the others Rostov has had killed is something that has been on her mind for a long time. I'm sure she counts Daniel Cho as another of his victims, regardless of Cho's reprehensible actions."

"How do you know about that?" asked Rossi. "We only flew home on Friday."

Perez shrugged. "There's an FBI undercover agent that was targeted as part of what Cho was doing. He was monitoring Cho's actions and reported to my operation, in addition to his Bureau superiors. We hid him once Cho took aim in his direction, but he is back in place now and the flow of information has resumed."

"You knew what Cho was up to," said Rossi flatly. "You could have stopped him."

"We could have," agreed Perez, "but he was more useful to me doing what he was doing. All the time he was a one-man rogue operation, Rostov wasn't looking at us." Perez peered at him. "You don't approve."

Rossi grimaced. "Seems unjust, letting him get away with so much for so long, just so you had your in with Rostov."

"I play for the long game, Agent Rossi. None of the people he killed were innocents, until Henderson, that is. Much as I hate the phrase, "for the greater good", it seems to apply well in this case. Cho was just another pawn on our board, moving us one step closer to checkmating Sergei with every day that passed."

"And you let Pip make the final move," said Rossi wearily. Suddenly he felt exhausted, worn out by the intrigue.

Perez nodded. "Then I tidied up after her. Ballistics analysis will prove the wound was self-inflicted, fired from the weapon found on the body and covered in his fingerprints. Medical reports have been fabricated to indicate that he was suffering from stage 4 lung cancer, unsurprising for a man who smoked fifty a day for more than forty years, and the autopsy paperwork will confirm that. It took me all day yesterday to arrange it, but all trace of her involvement has been removed and the Rostovs will be none the wiser. Other than being a little shocked that their supreme leader was dying and didn't tell anyone."

"Why?" asked Rossi. "Why would you do that for her?"

Perez shook his head. "Not for her. I am a pragmatist. Sergei's death works in my favour, so I authorised the operation. No one but you and I and my chief of staff will ever know that clearance for his termination came through around dawn on Sunday morning." Perez paused for effect. "Three hours after he stopped breathing. His official time of death has been adjusted accordingly."

"You used her," accused Rossi. "With all the deaths already weighing so heavily on her conscience, why would you let her add one more?"

Perez drained his coffee. "If I'd stopped her, Russet would only have found another way, probably one more dangerous, where she didn't have my people watching her back. At least this way we both got what we wanted." He waved a dismissive hand and stood to pour himself a refill. "Sergei was going to die soon anyway." He pointed to Rossi's empty coffee cup. "You want another?"

Rossi nodded, feeling the need for more caffeine in order to keep up. Perez snagged his cup and busied himself fixing their coffees. "If the cancer is something you manufactured, why was Rostov going to die?" asked Rossi, while Perez's back was turned.

"Mikhail is a young man with big ideas and has been growing increasingly impatient with his grandfather's way of doing things," said Perez over his shoulder. "If he didn't have Sergei killed in the next month or so, then we were going to take care of it for him. I do not doubt that information was passed on when Russet was informed of his location. She only accelerated my timeline by three weeks or so. Perhaps less."

"She didn't know it was authorised. She committed murder," disputed Rossi. Of all the things he'd learned that morning, that was the one that still disturbed him. That Pip would do something like that. Although…she had already told him of two others, men she had butchered while overseas. Was Rostov all that much different?

"It is her sense of justice," replied Perez, repeating his earlier comment as he sat back down, placing Rossi's coffee in front of him. "And a product of her former career. Operatives such as she was aren't given specific orders very often. They are given objectives, and leave to achieve them in more or less whatever manner they see fit." Perez studied Rossi over the rim of his cup, the intense gaze similar to the ones Pip would give him if she thought he was being dense about something.

"The best judge of that is the person on the ground," continued Perez, "not some desk-driver such as myself who polishes a chair with their ass for a living, someone who's been out of the field longer than they were in it." Perez shot him a self-deprecating smile. "Which is why I live on base, unlike others of my rank. I have a better understanding of her and others like her because of that, and I believe it makes a difference. She is used to carrying out actions such as she took Saturday night without formal approval, safe in the knowledge that if she felt it was necessary, someone somewhere would authorise it, even after the fact. The outcome justifies the means and the arrangement provides the government plausible deniability."

Rossi let out a deep sigh. "I still have trouble with that."

"Most people would," said Perez easily, "but I am not most people, and neither, I think, are you. Once you've had time to think about it, at least," he added. "Let me give you an example. In the late nineties, there was a particular man in Poland, the chief of the secret police. He took a bullet to the head as he parked his car. There was an investigation of course, and even a man who confessed at one point, but it was Russet who pulled the trigger. Three weeks after he was removed, all sorts of things started to emerge about the things he'd done, the atrocities he'd committed. There was no doubt he deserved death, and the international community breathed a little easier with him gone. Her action was sanctioned, retrospectively."

"This was different," disputed Rossi. "It was personal."

"Yes, it was," agreed Perez. "Which is why I allowed it. Of the myriad of things we have talked about, Russet and I over the last few months, the difference between justice and vengeance has been a common theme. I will say no more than that, considering the nature of those discussions, but…" He sighed tiredly, suddenly looking his age. "I wanted her to have a chance to see that while the two things are different, sometimes it's possible to have both at once."

"How? If she doesn't know all you've told me…" Rossi trailed off as understanding finally dawned. "No. If you want her to know, you're going to be the one to tell her. Leave me out of this."

"I can't," objected Perez. "You are intrinsically linked with her now. You were, even before the two of you were intimate. You know far more than you should, about many aspects of her life and her past. There is no way to separate that, you must have known that for yourself when she broke protocol to contact you the day she was recalled."

Rossi nodded uneasily. "It took a couple of days to sink in, but yes I did. I keep her secrets as she keeps other people's."

"Exactly," said Perez firmly. "Which is why…"

"But I will not be a part of the explanation you owe her," interrupted Rossi, a little angry that a man Pip saw as a friend was trying weasel his way out of talking to her. He stood. "I think I'd like you to take me back to the Bureau now."

Perez tried to convince him again he they drove back, something that irritated Rossi no end.

"General, put yourself in my shoes," snapped Rossi as the car drew up at the doors to the Bureau. "For someone who says they do that with those under their command, you're blind to the position you've put me in. You're the one who has been chasing Rostov for years, you're the one who let her take the shot. I refuse to be involved. Telling me before you've spoken to Pip is underhanded and dishonourable by making me lie by omission to her with every minute that passes. You have to be the one to tell her. Although I will patch you up afterwards if necessary," he added.

Perez sighed. "I did not think you would agree, but an old man has to try. I will admit I am a little wary of her reaction when she finds out my involvement with Rostov."

Rossi smirked. "Do you still fit into your body armour, General?"

It was worth it for the sudden widening of Perez's eyes and Rossi felt a savage burst of satisfaction at his discomfiture.