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Please see disclaimers in Ch. 1.

He knew it would be soon. Volkner had been prepared, and even Adlington had been 'convinced' that this was the best course of action.

A little leverage, he thought. Just enough to make them move…

It all now depended on the man inside.

A week after Olivia arrived, and Will couldn't stop holding her. It became his nightly ritual to take the little girl out for a walk on the grounds, showing her the wonders of a night sky and the world after dark. There were so many paths and places to walk to that the walk never got old—one night he sat on what was commonly referred to as 'Chase's bench' and showed Olivia the wonders of moonlight on water. Another night he walked along a path of tea rose trees, letting the little girl sleep as he took in the perfumed smell. Only yesterday the tiny girl got her first look at a frog hopping towards a small puddle in the tall grass.

On this particular night, while the rest were in the drawing room, taking a conference from Kyle Parker and that strange man Hollenbeck, Will was meandering through a small grove of trees that made the world seem darker than it looked. Nighttime had always been a source of comfort to Will, even as a child in New Orleans—though the city lights had been close by, it had been his custom to walk for miles underneath a blanket of stars, even among the best and worst of conditions.

"You see there, cher?" Will said looking at his little girl. "That is one bright full moon. And if we weren't underneath these trees, the whole world could see us."

Olivia smiled, fussed her hands a little, and squirmed to get a more comfortable position in her daddy's arms. It was a wonder that Will's arms hadn't fallen off yet, considering the amount of time he spent holding his daughter in them.

Will continued on his walk, happily talking to Olivia about full moons and the stories they bring—especially for people in his profession!—and let the time slip by without a care in the world.

The little man crept closer. He knew what had to be done. The thought that kept him going was that of her face, smiling, after so much heartache. He could do this. Everything else was inconsequential.

The Southerner continued walking, finding the groomed paths growing more twisted and maze-like as he continued onward. "Looks like someone forgot to put down bread crumbs," he said, letting Olivia fall asleep on his shoulder. "Hansel and Gretel I am not."

"Nor would you want to be."

Will spun quickly, ready to take off like a deer, when he realized he knew the voice. "Oliver," he said. "How'd you…?"

"I didn't make close to the top of the counterterrorism unit at 29 for nothing," the younger man said, allowing a chuckle. "I figured this was the last place you hadn't explored, so I came out. Needed to get some air."

"Not going well, eh?"

Oliver shook his head. "No. We're still trying to figure out what the link is between us and this Lincoln thing…I know it's important, but I just can't put my finger on where I've heard it before…"

"My father had the same problem. They tell you how we met?"

"No. Just that there was a case in the Quarter and you were the detective working it."

Will began the long tale of how he'd met the BAU those two years ago, and how they'd managed to find the person wreaking so much havoc through his beloved city. "In the end, I found that cell phones were, in fact, very good for my health," he said, smiling.

"I'll say. Hey there, sweetie," Oliver said, taking one of Olivia's tiny hands into his own. "Is your Dad boring you?"

"Nah. She's taking in the family history."

"Through osmosis, I presume?"

"Something like that." Will sighed. "We can't let them go back there, you know."

"Back where?"

"Philadelphia. Prison." Will's face grew as dark as his surroundings—the clouds were starting to blot out the bright moon, and the cover of the trees only made the area more black and opaque.

"Will, we're not going to. Tomorrow Chase thinks she'll hear about those boxes, and then we'll start getting somewhere."

"I'm glad there's that. I don't know if I…" Will stopped short, as if he was listening for something.

"What?"

"Did you hear that?"

Oliver fell silent a few moments. "Hear what?"

"I thought I heard…"

The two men fell silent again. There was nothing but the sound of crickets.

"Maybe we'd better head back," Oliver suggested.

"Let's," Will agreed, holding Olivia closer. The two walked as quickly as they could while trying not to wake the sleeping infant, and the farther they progressed the darker their surroundings became. As they walked, Oliver could swear he could hear footsteps…

"Faster, LaMontaigne," he hissed, tossing a look over at his friend. "There's someone behind…"

Oliver's statement was cut short by a strike to his head. The younger man fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Oliver!" Will cried out, clutching his daughter now even more tightly. A moment later, two figures, dressed form head to toe in black, said something to him in that strange Chinese he didn't understand.

"What are…I don't…"

One of the figures pulled out a gun. Now that, Will understood—all too well. Again something was said, in that odd dialect.

"I don't understand…"

The figure with the gun pointed forward, the barrel kept trained on the Southerner at all times. The other figure picked up Oliver's limp frame and began dragging it somewhere—somewhere Will was supposed to follow.

"Please, what's going on?" he called out, trying to reason with these people as best he could. He was unarmed, and he had Olivia and Oliver to think about…

The cloaked figure said nothing, but pressed the man onward, finally throwing open a door on an old work truck. "In," the figure said, its accent thicker than Will's Cajun one.

There's only two of them…I could run…

But then again, how good's their aim?

And I can't leave Oliver…not to die…

"Please, don't hurt her," Will begged, still clutching the baby. He could see that the barrel of the pistol was dancing much too near his shoulder—and where his daughter slept—for his comfort.

"In!" the voice said again, more forceful this time. Oliver had already been thrown inside the van, his still-unconscious form now lying haphazardly on the floor.

Will bristled, and tried calling out for help. No one came. The guards were on patrol elsewhere, and the rest of the staff was inside the house—guarding the others, Will thought.

The barrel danced closer. "In!"

Defeated, Will complied. The other figure bound his legs and trained the pistol on him as the first one drove the van away from the tree grove and into the unknown.