Frankie was walking through the apartment door exactly fourteen minutes and twenty seconds later. As soon as she stepped across the threshold, Bianca was raising her arms, wanting to wrap them around the shorter woman. A tight smile crossed the agent's face as she sidestepped the gesture, hands finding their way into her pockets.

"Hey."

"Hey." Bianca replied cautiously, dropping her arms and closing the door.

Frankie moved further into the room, eyes roaming the area. Bianca sidled up behind her, hands nervously clasping together, "Reese is in the bedroom. It's been a long day and she needs to be up early tomorrow for work."

Frankie nodded, not turning around. She walked into the living room and silently plopped down onto the couch, her legs stretching out and crossing at the ankle. Bianca slowly followed, "Do you want something to drink? Can I get you anything?"

"A bottle of bourbon." Frankie muttered under her breath before shaking her head no. She crossed her arms and slouched further into the sofa. She felt the younger woman approach the plush piece of furniture. The agent kept her eyes forward, not acknowledging her.

"Are you ok?" worried brown eyes pleaded with Frankie.

A shrug, "I'm fine."

Bianca sighed, her fingers fidgeting, "I'm glad you came. I..."

"Why am I here?" Frankie interrupted her.

"You don't want to be here."

"I don't know, Bianca. I'm sitting in your living room with your wife a few rooms away, and she probably doesn't know I'm here. You can't do anything with me, and then you miss me. You want to talk, you don't want to talk."

"And your walls are up so high it doesn't matter anymore."

"My walls aren't up."

"No?"

Frankie ran a hand through her hair and stood up, "What do you want from me?"

Bianca stepped up to her, "I want you to calm down. I want to spend time with you. I want you in my life." She tangled their fingers together, "Please, Frankie. Don't shut me out."

An incredulous laugh escaped, "Do you know what you're asking me? Do you really?"

"I know that you came back to me. I never expected it." she squeezed their fingers, "I'm so happy, so happy that it happened, but I need time to figure it out. Please, don't shut me out, and don't let me go. Not yet."

Frankie bit the inside of her cheek and looked at their linked hands, "I'm sorry. It's late. I haven't had a cigarette in days. I'm trying. I am."

"I know you are, baby. I know you are." Bianca tugged on their joined hands and pulled her into a one-arm hug, "It's complicated. I just need time to figure everything out. You're so strong. Be strong for me a little longer."

"Mommy?"

Bianca pulled back, her body turning to see a sleepy-eyed Miranda standing a few feet away. A doll was in one hand while the other rubbed at her blinking eyes. Her face brightened when she spotted Frankie, though, and she scrambled over to the duo.

"Hey kiddo." Frankie caught the lunging child.

"What are you doing up, honey? It's way past your bedtime." Bianca ran a hand up a down her daughter's back, a tiny grin playing at her lips at the sight of the agent and the child.

"I was dreaming and woke up." Miranda answered her mother, attention focused on Frankie, "You were in it."

"I was huh? What were we doing? Egging someone's house?"

"No, silly. What's that?" confusion coated the tone.

"Frankie's joking. It's nothing you'll ever want to do." Bianca raised her eyebrows at the other woman.

Frankie winked at her and hefted the child further into her arms. Bianca rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the widening grin.

"You were there." Miranda repeated.

"Ok, Dorothy, was your mom there too?"

"No, just you. We were home, but it looked different." Miranda furrowed her brows as she remembered the dream, "Your hair was long. You had a lot of big books. You dropped them and picked me up and swung me around. You called me munchie. You asked how your little munchkin was. Why did you call me that? I'm kid, not munchie."

Bianca gasped, a hand coming up to her mouth. Frankie stoically took in what the child was saying. "I don't think that was me, kiddo."

"Then who was it? She looked like you."

"Um...how about you go back to sleep. It's late, and we don't want you sleeping all day tomorrow." Frankie began walking towards the hallway.

Bianca watched them leave, unable to move. Was this really happening? It had been so long since Miranda had asked about Maggie. The other Stone was no longer a part of their lives. But that dream was pure Maggie. She always had her textbooks with her. She was studying every free moment she could. And she called Miranda munchkin. It was her nickname for the small girl.

Frankie entered the living room, "She's back in bed, and I checked on Gabby. Both are sleeping, now. Didn't check on Reese, though. Figured she was old enough to not need my help."

Bianca stared at her, a frown on her face. Frankie crossed her arms and shifted her weight from foot to foot, "Say it."

"She...she dreams about her." Bianca softly said, stunned at her own words.

"Yeah, seems so."

"Why?" Bianca's voice took on a childlike quality.

"Well...why wouldn't she? Listen, you two were all in love and stuff, right? She was a part of Miranda's life for a long time. You were going to have her adopt the kid." Frankie evenly spoke, keeping her own feelings locked up.

"No, she left us. She chose to not be a part of Miranda's life. It's been so long, and Miranda is so young..."

"When was the last time they saw each other?"

"Before Maggie left."

Frankie sighed, "Maybe they should see each other."

"What?"

"Clearly, Miranda remembers Maggie."

"She thinks it's you." Bianca cut in.

"That makes me feel better." Frankie mumbled before speaking up,"Does she? Or does she think I'm Maggie and just changed the name?"

"Frankie, you know Miranda loves you. Gabby too." Bianca reached out, but the agent leaned back from the searching fingertips.

"Why don't you let them see each other?"

"Maggie...she..."

"Did she want to see her? Did she ever say she did not want to be a part of Miranda's life?"

Bianca bit her lip and looked away from the hard stare, "No. She never said that."

"She wanted to be in her life, didn't she? What am I saying, of course she did. Who wouldn't want to be in that girl's life?"

"Why are you saying this?"

"Because everything points to the fact that Miranda and Maggie loved each other. And if someone loves a child, they shouldn't be kept from them. It's hard enough to find it...to be kept from it is crazy."

"You think I should let my ex, your sister, be in my daughter's life."

Frankie smiled bitterly at her words, "You should do what's best for the kid, whatever that is."

"She has Reese."

"You had your Uncle Jack. Does that mean you wouldn't want your father to be in your life after he and your mom divorced? Or your dad got remarried. Should he have kept you from your mom forever?"

"That's different. Maggie left. She chose to sleep with someone else. She didn't adopt Miranda. We were not married."

"Really? The Bianca I knew wouldn't stop a parent from seeing the child they love. No matter what."

Bianca tried not to think about when Babe kept her daughter from her, letting her think Miranda had died when the blonde had pretended the little Montgomery was her own child. Bianca wasn't like that. She would never put someone else through that.

"What are you? The voice of reason?" Bianca joked, rubbing her hands up and down her arms for comfort.

Frankie smirked, "Me? Voice of reason? Nah, just getting brownie points. Besides, when I mess up I can just say Maggie did it."

Bianca wrapped her arms around herself, "I'll talk to Reese about it."

"You'll be glad you did this. That whole doing the right thing...thing."

Bianca shuffled forward, "It's getting late. Can I see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be here at eight to pick-up the kids."

The mother nodded. As she passed by the agent, she stopped for a split-second. "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

"You're doing more than you think."

The brush lightly stroked across the canvas, leaving streaks of yellow in its wake. The soft bristles dipped back down into the pool of color, coating themselves and rising back up to the painting.

"How much for a painting?"

Ally grinned at an approaching Maggie, her eyes quickly returning to the sunrise before here. She adjusted on her stool and ran the brush over the miniature sun, filling in the circle. The canvas was covered with the bridge she was sitting on, the Seine running beneath as the sun rose to awaken the city.

The redhead bit her lip as she felt two warm arms wrap around her and block out the early morning cold. A styrofoam cup appeared in front of her as her girlfriend gently whispered in her ear, "Got you some tea."

Ally placed her brush in the small can of water at her feet and gratefully grasped the steaming cup. She wrapped both hands around it and leaned back into the embrace. Snuggling against Maggie, she felt the brunette kiss the shell of her ear then rest her chin on her shoulder.

"You're always distracting me." Ally murmured.

Maggie wriggled her eyebrows with a goofy grin, "A good distraction though, right?"

"A very good distraction." Ally tilted her head, kissing her jaw before capturing her lips. She wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her closer as her tongue ran across a sweet candy lip, seeking entrance. Maggie's lips parted, allowing her tongue to sweep in. She gently touched the roof of her mouth, faintly feeling arms tighten around her.

They broke apart, gasping for air. "Let's go home." Maggie licked her lips.

"I need to finish my painting." Ally kissed her again.

"Come on," Maggie panted as they pulled apart, "Let me have my wicked way with you."

"Your wicked way?" Ally raised a teasing eyebrow.

"I'm a sex machine, baby."

Ally burst into laughter, "A machine, huh? More like a sex maniac."

"Either way, we should be having sex."

"Sex? You just want to have sex with me?" Ally pretended to turn back to her painting.

"No," Maggie tugged at her, "I want to make love to you."

Ally smiled and softly pecked her lips, "Well, what are you waiting for hotshot?"

Maggie swiftly pulled her off the stool, grabbing the small seat and can of water. Ally chuckled at her hurry and picked up the paints and canvas.

"What a romantic." Ally teased as the shorter woman impatiently headed towards their apartment.

Maggie slowed down a notch. Ally, making sure everything was packed away, lifted the canvas and paints under her right arm, her left hand finding the other woman's right.

They strolled down the walkway, their hands slightly swinging between them. A middle-aged couple passed by them with a nod, their young son walking backwards in front of them, French rapidly leaving his mouth in short bursts.

Ally's features softened at the sight. She tucked in closer to Maggie, "Do you ever think about having children?"

Maggie stumbled at the question, "W-What?"

"Do you ever think about having children? I know we haven't really talked about it, but I saw that little boy and," Ally explained before seeing Maggie's pale face, "honey, what's wrong? Are you ok?"

Maggie froze. She fought against the images entering her head. Against the memories of the little girl she hadn't seen in years. The child she had helped to raise, had thought of as her own. Two hands cupping her face directed her focus onto worried eyes.

"Maggie, honey, I didn't mean anything by it. We don't have to talk about children. I'm happy with where we are."

Maggie saw the flicker in her eyes, knowing that Ally wasn't being truthful. Of course she wanted children. Of course she would talk about it with her girlfriend. Taking a deep breath, she spoke "Ally, there's...there's something...someone...I'd like to tell you about. Someone I should have told you about a long time ago, but I didn't."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't know how. It hurts thinking about her, but it hurts not talking about her too."

"Who?"

Maggie lifted the corner of her lips, "Her name's Miranda."

"Morning, kid." Frankie entered the apartment, a cup of coffee in her hand. The little girl gave her a quick hello and took her hand, dragging her into the kitchen. They entered the brightly lit room to find Gabby happily bouncing in her seat, a sea of cheerios littering her table. Plates and glasses decorated the dining table, silverware shining in the light.

Bianca walked over with a plate of pancakes, the syrup bottle dangling from her finger. She offered the agent a soft smile and set the items in the middle of the table. Frankie looked at her, silently studying her features. The young woman looked tired. Dark circles were under her eyes, matching the same ones underneath the short brunette's. She was dressed casually, more casual than Frankie had seen since arriving in France. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. An old purple and white t-shirt was paired with comfortable gray sweatpants. Her face was freshly scrubbed and make-up free. She looked beautiful.

"Mommy made pancakes." Miranda said while crawling onto her chair.

"Yeah, and they look fabulous." Frankie sat down as well.

"Fabulous?" Bianca quirked an eyebrow.

"How about absolutely deliciously fantastic looking? Better?"

Bianca took the final seat and reached over to place a pancake on her daughter's plate, "Much. It's a good thing you weren't being sarcastic."

"Me? Sarcastic? Never." Frankie drizzled a small amount of syrup on Miranda's pancake.

"Of course not. That's not your style." Bianca's voice took on a teasing tone as she snagged Frankie's plate and stacked some of the fluffy treats onto it.

"Oh? And what is my style, Ms. Montgomery?" Frankie dumped the syrup onto her food.

"One that will cause diabetes. That's enough syrup." Bianca gaped at the amount of sticky liquid the agent poured on her pancakes.

"What? Sugar's good for ya." Frankie winked at Miranda with a smirk.

"I bet the dentist loves you."

"Nah...not my type."

"You have a type?"

"Maybe...wanna know what it is?"

Bianca poked at her food, shyly pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Frankie set down her fork and leaned forward, "Soft smooth skin, an adorable smile, a kind heart. Mostly though, I'm a sucker for big brown eyes. Gets me every time."

"Frankie..." Bianca tried to hide her reddened cheeks.

"I can be crazy and stupid. I'm a liar. I lie a lot, and I might have lied about being able to let you go. You said you don't want me to, and I don't think I could if I wanted to. I should walk away from you and never look back...but I don't want to."

Bianca pressed her fingers against her forehead, the gold on her ring finger glittering. Frankie blinked at the shine, "Where's Reese?"

"She's at work." Miranda answered, a dribble of syrup creeping down her chin.

"Work? She goes there a lot, doesn't she?" Frankie glanced at the girl. Spotting the droplets on her chin, she balled up a napkin and wiped it away.

Miranda nodded her head, shoving another bite of pancake into her mouth. "She's busy. She's gone a lot."

Frankie reached out to wipe at her chin again, when her arm stopped.

Gone a lot.

"No problem. Saving damsels in distress is part of my job. I'm just wondering where the wife is, since I think that's also what she's supposed to do."

"She saw a friend and went to talk with him."

"Lucky for you I was here. It must be your lucky day."

"Frankie, are you ok?" Bianca looked worriedly at the agent. Miranda also looked confused at the hand inches from her face.

"I need to go." Frankie abruptly stood up.

"What? But...what's wrong?" Bianca was worried. They had been doing so well that morning. A major improvement over the tension last night. Frankie's walls were back down.

"Nothing...I just thought of something I need to do. Can you take care of the kids?" she was already out of the kitchen.

"Yes, but what's going on?" Bianca ran after her.

"It's ok. I need to check something." Frankie offered a reassuring grin before leaving the apartment.

"Where was Reese Williams?" Frankie burst into the office.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, staring at their boss as she ran into the room.

"When Drake Curtis was in the building, where was she?"

Johnson shuffled his papers while Stuart looked confused. Jones sat up straighter in his chair, if that was possible with his perfect posture, "Um...she was at the party, ma'am."

"Where? Did you see her?" Frankie's eyes were wild. She rushed over to the gaggle of agents.

"Well...it was busy...I saw her a few times..." Jones stuttered out, shrinking under the intense stare.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Taylor stood up.

Frankie shuffled through the folders in front of Johnson, pulling out the file on Reese Williams. She opened it, spreading the few papers across the surface of the desk.

"Reese Williams was talking with a friend and was out of sight for at least ten minutes. Around fifteen minutes later Drake Curtis is upstairs in the kids' room. He would need help accessing and finding them. She was gone at the exact perfect time to be that help."

"Wait a minute here. You're saying Williams is in on this?" Taylor scoffed.

"She was visiting a friend at the best time to help him. She would know how to get to the kids, and would be able to get him past any person that might have run into them without any problems. That's what I'm saying."

Taylor laughed.

"You think this is funny?" Frankie narrowed her eyes at him.

"I can't believe it. I heard things, but this takes the cake."

"Agent Taylor, do you have a different theory?"

"Yeah, I do. My theory is that you want to bang the wife, so you go after Williams. We all saw you at that party."

"Watch your mouth." Frankie warned, her tone hardening.

"You watch it." Taylor stepped towards her, "It's so obvious what's going on here. You want to take Williams out of the equation so you can get it on with her chick."

"This is an investigation..."

"That you are manipulating for your own needs." Taylor cut her off. "The great Frankie Stone. The awesome undercover agent who got sent here because you were doing the same thing. You forged evidence and made stuff up to have the case go your way. Just like you are now!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's true! The rumors. They all say you did it. You got in trouble, were pulled, and got sent here. You were an inch away from being fired. Now, you're doing it again."

"I'm doing my job."

"You're trying to pin this on someone so you can get some!"

"That's enough!" Frankie was breathing hard, anger shining in her eyes. "Agent Taylor, I am the lead agent on this case. I am your superior, and you will treat me as such. You will follow my orders. If you don't like it, find another job. Otherwise, shut the hell up and sit down!"

The room was silent, all eyes on Taylor. He glared at Frankie, his jaw clenched so tight veins bulged on his face. After a moment, he sat down with a snort of disdain.

"What...um...do you want us to do, boss?" Jones broke the silence.

Frankie took a calming breath, "I want to know everything about Reese Williams. I want full surveillance on her. I want someone following her at all times. Taylor, you were primary on her. Did she do anything suspicious?"

"No." he curtly answered.

"Ok, we need to follow her in case she does. Did we find anything when we searched her office when we got here?"

The room was quiet as the agents fidgeted.

"We...uh...didn't search her office, ma'am." Jones finally answered.

"What do you mean you didn't search the office?" Frankie's voice raised.

"She was a victim, not a suspect. We were protecting her." Taylor explained.

"Damn it. We never checked the damn office." Frankie mumbled as she ripped open a drawer and pulled out a small flashlight. She jogged into her office and opened the locked drawer in her desk. She lifted Jonathon's folder and grabbed the small box underneath, shoving it into her pocket.

"Agent Stone, Director Michaels is on line one. More on Reese Williams will be faxed in two minutes." Johnson called into the small office.

"Damn it." Frankie sighed as she picked up the phone.

The phone call ended up lasting longer than she needed it to. After the phone call, the fax had arrived and needed her attention. Then the schedule on following Reese had to be negotiated. By the time Frankie had a free moment, it was already late.

She put on her coat, double checking that she had the box and flashlight in her pockets. Shoving a pair of gloves into her back pocket, she entered the outer office and made her way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Jones asked.

"To check the damn office."

It was dark, the moon high in the sky as Frankie slowly entered the office building housing the architect agency. She carefully made her way past the night guard, the sole occupant of the building, and into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor. Creeping past the empty secretary's desk, she found the door leading to Reese's office. She pulled the gloves on and took out the flashlight. Clicking the button, a small beam illuminated the dark room. She checked the door knob. It was locked. She pulled out the box and flipped it open, revealing a few small metal sticks.

Placing the flashlight in her mouth, she knelt down, pointed the light at the lock, and picked up two of the sticks. With an ease she shouldn't posses, Frankie stuck the two sticks into the hole of the lock and pressed them around. A few seconds later, a small click sounded. She put the sticks back in the box, put it in her pocket, and grabbed the flashlight from her mouth.

The door knob effortlessly twisted open, and the agent stood up. She slowly stepped into the room, the flashlight uncovering a modern style décor. Frankie immediately made her way over to the desk. She shined the light on the papers scattered across the surface, speed reading their contents. She turned the computer on, then started opening drawers.

The first drawer held a bunch of stray pencils and pens along with a stapler and tape. The second held neatly ordered files. Opening each one, she only found drawings and plans for new or existing buildings.

The computer finally booted up, and Frankie turned her attention to the screen. There was a box asking for a password. The agent silently cursed to herself. What the hell could the password be?

Bianca? No.

Reese? No.

Miranda? No.

Her birthday? No.

Gabrielle? No.

Damn it? Not that either.

Frankie sighed and scratched at her scalp. What could it be? Deciding to forgo the computer, for now, she turned back to the drawers. Going for the third drawer, she found it locked. She knelt down again and pulled out the box of tools.

A scratching sound.

Frankie froze.

Metal scraping against metal filled the quiet. A key was entering the lock.

Frankie ducked down, hiding fully behind the desk and turning off the flashlight.

The door knob turned. The door swung open.

Frankie held her breath.

Footsteps slowly entered the room. The lights remained turned off.

Frankie huddled in further against the desk.

The footsteps approached the desk. Frankie could make out large shoes. Men's shoes.

The shoes stopped. Silence.

Then, they turned picking up speed as they ran back towards the door.

"Shit." Frankie mumbled, scrambling to her feet. She ran after the person. Throwing open the door, she charged down the hallway. Seeing the stairwell door swing shut, she raced towards it. Slamming the metal door open, she flung herself down the noisy stairs, her feet clanging against the metal. Her shoulder slammed against the wall as she turned each corner.

Reaching the bottom, she burst out into the lobby and onto the street, ignoring the shocked night guard. Looking both ways, she saw a figure in the distance. Pushing her feet into the hard pavement, she sprinted down the sidewalk.

Cars zoomed past as she ran. Her arms pumped through the air, trying to give her more speed. Getting closer, the figure took shape. They were tall, dressed in dark clothes. A jacket whipped with the wind. Their hair was short.

The person quickly turned a corner. Frankie planted her foot and cut into the alley, her feet sliding on the slick concrete. Cardboard boxes flew backwards as the person blindly flung them at the agent. A metal shopping cart rolled back. Frankie dodged the cart, spinning to the left.

Reaching the end of the alley, Frankie found herself on a tiny side street, the lights of the city muting in the increasingly gritty area. Panting with exertion, she forced her legs to keep moving.

The person waved a hand around, an indecipherable object clutched in the grasp.

BANG!

A flash of light sparked as a gun went off. Frankie dove to the ground, twisting her body behind a trash can. Within a second her gun was out.

Another wild shot went off, deflecting against the side of a building. Frankie huddled behind the can. Waiting a second, she carefully peered from her hiding spot onto the dark street. Seeing nothing, she stood up and stepped out, gun pointed forward. Shuffling down the road, she cautiously checked every crevice and opening.

Nothing.

The person had gotten away.